2 Poems by Tyler Mitchell

Firekeeper 

 

at 3 

the world burns 

alone 

I keep cussing 

because I keep cussing 

off the smallest fracture 

of sagebrush 

shadow 

eyelash.

 


 

Spire 

 

A boy struck
clouds 

the shape
of his brother’s mouth 

so it’s raining
now 

varnish 

wine 

midnight 

concrete

 

sit
sit
sit 

the cloud is a lung 

and to puncture 

is to hug 

hold this rag 

catch your breath 

      the ambulance isn’t
here just yet 

to confess 

stabbing its brother
in his chest
a siren

two silhouettes

stitch together

a scarring sunset. 

 


 

Tyler Mitchell is a Diné poet from Tsaile, Arizona. He is the Editor of Salina Bookshelf, Inc. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona where he teaches and writes poetry.


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