Justin Rigamonti

WOUND

Sometimes the truth
of what you are
appears like
someone else’s breath
entering your body.
Sometimes the good
wound opens
and the world
collapses
like a painted backdrop.
And the raw 
warp of namelessness
whistles around you.
And through the hole
in your belly’s heart,
a new god
wobbles into being. 

Justin Rigamonti teaches writing at a college in Portland, Oregon and serves as the Managing Editor of Fonograf Editions. His poems have been recently published or are forthcoming in American Poetry Review, New Ohio Review, The Bangalore Review, Thrush, and Radar Poetry.