Stan Sanvel Rubin / Poetry 6.2 / Fall, 2018



You Can’t Belong Nowhere

You must belong somewhere.
That’s the nature of things.
Everything has a place,
even if nothing is forgiven.

The not-forgiven is a place
of expectation. Of always
waiting to be forgiven.
It’s a kind of ecstasy,

kneeling on a shore while
waves pound to the rhythm of your heart
and you constantly await
the next wave’s coming

which could bring with it
a remedy, a way to acknowledge
that it was not for nothing
you came here to kneel

where the rim of salt
is endlessly swept away
by the water
as it vanishes

and leaves you bent
under the chatter of sea birds
and veering sun
where you were always meant to be.

Apocalypse 2018

If this is epilogue for us all,
let it be as splendid as the consuming fire
crazed Nero watched from his battlements,
his murderous father and mother long dead,
playing a lyre, they say, maybe singing.



Stan Sanvel Rubin’s work has appeared, most recently, in Poetry Northwest, Sheila-na-gig, and Shanghai Poetry Review, and is forthcoming in One and Agni. His fourth full collection, There. Here., was published by Lost Horse Press in 2013. He lives on the northern Olympic Peninsula of Washington.


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