Matthew 6:28—Sonnets

BY KYLE OKEKE

Two doors in the snow: two men inexcess. Beauty, theyre strain, likea grave. Its ghost, cold and falling.I was looking formeaning, too. I found a sidewalk:more doors laidlike planks. A vulture starving forlight, I found a knifeI sank in-to the white, soft wage:an angelcarved in his image.Arrestedby the path, knife wetwith glimmer, weapon left in snow—I felt hischest like a trapdoor.The inmatescarry themselves upin bouquets. In the closets, fieldsof lilies.