I can see what I want in people—You, stranger,
I think to myself, you with the empty gaze
are the beautiful Eden snake, and you with the sad eyes
are an apple from the one forbidden tree.
I can see in the world another world.
I can dream up apocalypse or creation
in any landscape, corner, or shadow of the city.
Why else should I go anywhere, and why else
should I look into anything? I bring with me everywhere
a few grains of nightmare and paradise, I keep them hidden
in my pockets with my pen and my crumpled paper. What now
gives me faith in anything? The barely discriminating love
of dogs, the judgelessness of dusk and dawn,
the absolute indifference of black empty galaxies,
and all that exists without a question—
Even in the punishing chill of my mind,
I can find a shred of love, a thread of
compassion—they live there without a doubt,
or need of gratitude. I pray they imprint onto me
their pure design, their ancient elegance,
even in fields of hail, or on mountains of frost—
In the ongoing cold I look for salvation. Find me,
I say, find me even now, where I’m without name
or shape, or even a memory of light.
Alexander Etheridge has been developing his poems and translations since 1998. His poems have been featured in The Potomac Review, Museum of Americana, Ink Sac, Welter Journal, The Cafe Review, The Madrigal, Abridged Magazine, Susurrus Magazine, The Journal, Roi Faineant Press, and many others. He was the winner of the Struck Match Poetry Prize in 1999, and a finalist for the Kingdoms in the Wild Poetry Prize in 2022. He is the author of, God Said Fire, and the forthcoming, Snowfire and Home.
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THE CITY KEY 