POETRY BY JOHN PAUL MARTINEZ

WHAT THE SKY CAN’T KEEP IS MOSTLY RAIN

In the long field,

I ode.

Why still then the goose

-bumps in the angry

August light?

Feet above the ground,

the swallows practice

evasion—this tree line

charged with song. Hopefully,

if I keep still enough, the insects

will use me for travel, that they

will arrive safely to their tiny destinations.

If I keep still enough, perhaps the field

will teach me silence.

What I need to tell you is

that June bugs live

up to four years,

that they continue

to exist even when

that month expires.

Four Junes.

My god.

I have not moved in so long,

even the clouds are beginning to worry.

May the wind pull me

out of my body.

John Paul Martinez is a Filipino Canadian poet writing out of the Midwest. His work is forthcoming or appears in Third Coast, Redivider, Nashville Review, Poetry Northwest, The Margins, and elsewhere. He holds a BA in Linguistics from the University of Wisconsin–Madison and currently serves as a poetry reader for BOAAT Journal and SLICE Magazine. He thanks you.