Jo Brachman

Jo Brachman lives in Pine Lake, Georgia. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Cimarron Review, Birmingham Poetry Review, Poet Lore, Moon City Review, Poetry East, San Pedro River Review, Bellingham Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Best New Poets, Terminus, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and others. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from Pacific University in Oregon.

Reprieve

Today, I trust the sun of not-knowing
how the noonday cracks
the light on the bush-tops, and flint-sparks
off the blue bottle tree.
Today, I revel in space around
objects or inside empty vases.
I throw out the old lists, no longer
believe pleasure is the last chore done.
Down the street, a young man praises
his Retriever. I admire how they stride
past the just-born hyacinths.
Today, no grave rises to greet me.
I harbor no twisting questions, like:
I know you're gone, but where?
Today, brother, I don't ask why.
I take cues from my cat's thick haunch,
asleep on the porch railing, dust
golden on the ledge, the rusted fire pit
beyond. I know you are gone.
I stop holding my breath.