Nowadays, as god has retired his anvil and nails
and what remains of morning
belongs to our hands,
we are alone
together
leaning over the sun,
crafting music that’s grounded
from the absence of instruments,
new ways to love bodily from the rusty light.
***
John Sibley Williams is the author of Controlled Hallucinations (FutureCycle Press, 2013) and seven poetry chapbooks. He is the winner of the HEART Poetry Award, and finalist for the Pushcart, Rumi, and The Pinch Poetry Prizes. John serves as editor of The Inflectionist Review, co-director of the Walt Whitman 150 project, and Marketing Director of Inkwater Press. A few previous publishing credits include: Third Coast, Nimrod International Journal, Inkwell, Cider Press Review, Bryant Literary Review, Cream City Review, The Chaffin Journal, The Evansville Review, RHINO, and various anthologies. He lives in Portland, Oregon.
Sliver of Stone Magazine 
When I first read the poem, I didn’t understand at all what he was saying. I read it a couple more times and I started to get a picture. To me, what the poem is about, is two lovers and how they are sharing a moment together one morning. Alone and somewhere quiet.