Jar of Eyes
by Ed Brickell
The Mason jar streamed with mossy muck
As we lugged it out of that teeming burble,
Hands heavy with our latest burden of curiosity,
A desire to be intimate with something strange
While there was still strangeness to be found -
Below our shouted warnings not to drop it
Minnows hovered just above the sand,
Feeling our voices as storms brewing,
But today was not the day for their lives
To be disturbed. We raised the jar into the sun
Shining on the bank of red clay and clover:
A jelly of stares, legs sprouting,
Gills seaming shut, tails retreating into
Emerging thighs, clotted chaos
Alchemizing from one world
To another. We hauled it up the steep verge
From the muggy reek of living water,
Noisy creek tumble fading,
Past ordered rows of lichened stone
With the unchanging names and dates,
Took turns holding it on the way home
To show our parents, but just something else
They already knew. And what,
They riddled smugly,
Are you going to do with this?
Ed Brickell (he/him) lives in Dallas, Texas with two cats, Harper and Maya. He reads and writes, hikes and watches birds, and is a mildly anxious supporter of Liverpool FC. His poems have appeared or will appear soon in Hiram Poetry Review, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Modern Haiku, Loch Raven Review, and other publications. You can find his recently published poetry at shortsurpriselife.com.
