Issue > Poetry

Angela M. Brandt

A.M. Brandt's poetry has appeared most recently in The Southern Review, Sewanee Review, Cimarron and Spoon River Poetry Review. Her first book is currently looking for a home. She teaches writing and literature at Savannah College of Art and Design in Savannah, Georgia, where she lives with her husband and daughter.

The Falling

Beneath all of this is
a sound of falling,
which could only
be rain
in the evening, it...

could be
the sharp-toothed

in the flesh-made-whole, or a holiness,

the choir all in robes.

How should I... I never knew
how anything worked,
or cared.

Anyway, it's late. Too late to stop
a boy, half-piper, from walking
into the sun tossing pennies
over his shoulders.
They leap from the pavement
like ingots of flame
where children follow.

Whoever He is, He has plans, tools of the trade,
your name
is half-chiseled on his stone, you've
always known it, the
falling,
you feel it, like rain.