From a History of Servitude

I’m in the wrong cycle.
Mondays marred by hospice runs,
mid-week to weekend languishing
in dramas of heat wave, 
drunks on benders.
I am my own beast—
closer to insect than animal,
best friend to bastards who pay debts
with conflict diamonds and Juneau furs,
who fill their silences with 
message blanks, rolled scraps of maps.
I’m aging out of despair.
Borne out by warnings 
of drying rivers, drought sky,
I’ve wronged the weather.

R.T. CASTLEBERRY

R.T. Castleberry, a Pushcart Prize nominee, has work in Caveat Lector, San Pedro River Review, Glassworks Magazine, Silk Road and Gyroscope Review. Internationally, he’s had poetry published in Canada, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Portugal, the Philippines, India and Antarctica.