Unnamed Season by Jules Travers | One Poem Only

One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.Unnamed SeasonJules TraversHe lives in a peaceful territoryof his own,relatively well-defined.In conversation with his selves,he navigates daily weather,rainbows,mirages,sinkholes.Now,can he still live with himself,with you?Your eyes align,two shapes of water join, sun-lit,know themselves reflected.He feels your arms.He broadens,flattensand retreats,enters spaces filled by airand phantom.He waits, he listens.Voices surface.He slips into marrowlit by the gasping mouthsof scattered self-sustaining fires.He fractures.He falls.He pools heavy,turns, raw, smolder.He scratches notesand demolishes boxes of tissues.While you drink your morningcoffee in the next room,he makes his blanketa mourning shroud,he hibernatesin jumps and starts.He heaves open jammed windows,specks of old white paint confetti his hair.Curtains bloom.Now,he perches on the roof.Now,he shows you proudly,with some astonishment,there’s a new row of feathersin his wingspan --pocked with blushesand frowns of color,asymmetrical, but his,a wave of growth unique to your shared ecosystem,brought forthby an unnamed season.More from Jules Travers ↓@jules_wordspics on InstagramYou can read more of their writing on their LinktreeSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Feed yourself poetry every day.