Sonnet

A feather fallen from the forehead,

A name forgotten. The face of a person

Passed in the street, the lips and eyes

Faded, only the swell of the breast,

A rise around the waist remembered.

Everything else discarded like

Afternoon sunlight. Diaphanous,

A thin curtain across a bright window,

Vague shapes beyond, the remnants of all

Longing into being, being into memory,

Memory into dust, a few seconds held

In vague shape: a night, a whisper,

A hand felt on the thigh,

A moon moving across the sky.

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Currently, Nate Beyer lives just outside Boston and teaches English at a small high school in Cambridge, MA. In 2004, he graduated from Boston University’s Creative Writing Program, where he studied with Leslie Epstein and Ha Jin.