Thrush Poetry Journal
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Adam Chiles
​

Self Portrait as a Lighthouse
 
Easy to find the correlatives.
You know the derelict cafe

is the wind’s asylum.
That deserted bench,

the sum of poverty.
You inhabit the verges

of this song, neck-deep
amid the salt-scrim,

a pummeled scar,
storm-wrecked, sheer

above the Atlantic’s steel
horizon. Each night,

mind ablaze, you plow
the gale’s blind acre.




Adam Chiles latest book, Bluff, is due out with Measure Press this summer. His work recently appeared in Blackbird, The McGuffin and the Threepenny Review. He serves on the editorial board of Poet Lore.




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