Texas was a time that never moved forward
by Matty Layne Glasgow
I came from a pearl of sweat that fell
from Mama’s brow on a Texas day in
August. Texas was a time that never moved
forward. August was scorched earth & steam—
a thick haze that swayed over the pavement.
When that pearl fell through the flames & burst,
I danced pretty for Mama & Daddy
& whoever would watch, just to keep my feet
from roasting on the coals. Texas is still
an unsetting sun; it hangs in time, forgets
the bodies it’s hanged & burned & buried.
August is a boy ablaze—cheeks flush full
of fire, his feet aflicker. But I learned to
burn the past on my arms & carry it with me.
from Mama’s brow on a Texas day in
August. Texas was a time that never moved
forward. August was scorched earth & steam—
a thick haze that swayed over the pavement.
When that pearl fell through the flames & burst,
I danced pretty for Mama & Daddy
& whoever would watch, just to keep my feet
from roasting on the coals. Texas is still
an unsetting sun; it hangs in time, forgets
the bodies it’s hanged & burned & buried.
August is a boy ablaze—cheeks flush full
of fire, his feet aflicker. But I learned to
burn the past on my arms & carry it with me.
Matty Layne Glasgow is a poet and MFA Candidate in Creative Writing & Environment at Iowa State University where he served as the Poetry Editor for Flyway: Journal of Writing & Environment. Matty’s queer little ditties have appeared in or are forthcoming from journals here and there, including BOAAT, The Collagist, Rattle, Frontier Poetry, and elsewhere. He presently serves as a Poetry Reader for The Adroit Journal.
