B.J. Buckley

Catechism

 
spirit is a bone                    gnawed away at –

shrinking moon oldest        tree

lightsails those                    moths' wings

burnt against cold               vacuum

shockwaves and                  twisting bursts

giant devil rays                    pregnant with

running out                          outrunning those

teeth                                     time

again                                    every again

an incisor                              a fang

B.J. Buckley is a Montana poet and writer who has worked in Arts in Schools and Communities programs throughout the West and Midwest for more than four decades. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Grub Street, About Place Journal, Sequestrum, december, CutThroat: A Journal of the Arts, Aesthetica, Hole in the Head Review, Sugar House Review, and The Southern Humanities Review Online, among others. Her chapbook, In January, the Geese, won the 35th Anniversary 2021 Comstock Review Poetry Chapbook Prize.