• Velocities

    Ryan Wilson

    Spring 2018

    The spry young sprinter
    I once was left me behind
    For good this winter

    Morning on my jog,
    When, my legs gone rubber, a
    J. Crew catalogue

    Of lithe Apollos
    Blithely passed by, then vanished.
    I know what follows:

    Back pangs, ravaged knees,
    A cruel accrual of
    Mounting maladies,

    And slow, then slower
    Movements, till, to get the mail
    Means a half hour

    Lost, overborne bones
    Creaking—old house in high winds—
    With the speed of stones

    Skipped life bounding past
    And blurring into perfect
    Stillness far too fast.

    Ryan Wilson is the editor of Literary Matters and the author of The Stranger World (Measure Press, 2017), winner of the Donald Justice Poetry Prize. His work appears widely in periodicals such as Birmingham Poetry Review, First Things, Five Points, the Hopkins Review, the New Criterion, the Yale Review, and Best American Poetry. He teaches at the Catholic University of America.

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