Poetry: Arko by Austin LaGrone

LaGrone’s “Arko” elapses within a single sentence, tucking moons and bones and love into its nine couplets. The poem gathers its imagery on the backs of short, delicate three and four syllable lines—a fragility that LaGrone bears with envious ease.



Today we will get along
without syntax

like birdcage cuttlebones
or the wings

that fold over
Archipenko’s gravesite

in the Bronx
where you

manage always

slanted light
to recreate the world

from within
the way a lighthouse

keeper folds
the moon

his lamp.



Austin LaGrone

Born in Baton Rouge, Austin LaGrone is the author of Oyster Perpetual, winner of the 2010 Idaho Prize for Poetry (Lost Horse P, 2011) and Call Me When You Get To Rosie’s, winner of the 2016 Bitter Oleander Library Award for Poetry (The Bitter Oleander P, 2017) His work has appeared in Black Warrior Review, Crazyhorse, Gulf Coast, Poetry International and elsewhere. He holds degrees from St. John’s College and New York University and lives in Sweden.

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