2 Poems

By Brett Harrington
Spring 2020 | Poetry

Into the Mist

Frost crackles

beneath your stagger until

you stop,

stock-still,

surrounded by plinks

of picks,

whispers rippling

through mist:

nothing’s as

nothing as

it should be

none of this

should exist

Nocturne

The lantern creaks

on its hook.

Rats gnaw in the attic.

Your brain throbs

like a feeding tick

as you reach

to bolt the door

to winter’s ravage,

to wolves you feel

watch you sleep.

Brett Harrington's poems have appeared in Two Hawks Quarterly, The Shore Poetry, Third Coast, The Inflectionist Review and Bluestem. He was a finalist for the 2012 Best of the Net award and lives in the Rogue Valley in southern Oregon.

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