Christian Barter

i think a good one would be: the sky is petty enough without us pestering it for stars. or, relatedly: a good star is hard to find. or somehow under an orange rind you’ll rustle up a star. or: betelgeuse is a hell of a way to spend a night. or better a cluster of stars than another bad sleep. you cannot dream with your mouth open and catch the light of the right star. if you stretch across a bed you will find the light of it still across your arm like lotion.

I don’t call it sleep anymore. I’ll risk losing something new instead— like you lost your rosen moon, shook it loose. But sometimes when I get my horns in a thing— a wonder, a grief or a line of her—it is a sticky and ruined fruit to unfasten from, despite my trembling. Let me call my anxiety, desire, then. Let me call it, a garden.

Today’s poem is “History” by Christian Barter. He has published three books of poems, the most recent being Bye-bye Land, a book-length poem, which received of the Isabella Gardner Prize. His primary occupation is working on a trail crew, planning and overseeing construction and rehabilitation of hiking trails at Acadia National Park, where he also serves as Poet Laureate. “History” is a section of Bye-bye Land.