The Cloven Crest of Evening by Matthew Mayberry

“you’re just a picture […] an image caught in time” – R.J. Dio



before the day

could go without

a wail, the night

hung itself

from the keystone

of a yawning rainbow

and lurched above

the halcyon flood

of the protestant

sunset. the humours of

this drama cast mad

sherbet over my eye.

i didn’t know

whether it was

morning zest

shaven from

a god’s gibbous

areola or whether i was

lapping at the fumes

of a revelation, but inside

me a leaden spigot

was slaking the waukers

near my woolen heart.

i walked through town

houses and strip malls.

saw a young

caligula drifting donuts

in a pale mustang, /ez kyle/

on the vanity plate

melting into the haze.

in the darkness

that followed,

four steamrollers

spread a hot

slather of highway

underneath a bridge.

i belted arias

into the tarred

wind and kissed

the black and latticed





Matthew Mayberry lives in Columbus, Ohio and attends the Ohio State University. He enjoys swimming in lakes, walking, and comedy open mics. His poetry idols are Jack Spicer, Aimee Nezhukumatathil, and Ross Gay.