by Tyler Dunston

What it must be like
the horrifying tumult

then weightlessness
clouds

like O’Keeffe’s oblongs
conveyering

in an endless loop
through heaven’s

dilapidated awnings
grief supplanted

by a continuous roar
holding your hand

Tyler Dunston is a writer, visual artist, and PhD candidate in English literature at the University of Michigan. He holds a BA in English from Stanford University and an MFA in poetry from Boston University. His work can be found in Hawaiʻi Pacific Review, Narrative, Nimrod, Raleigh Review, and elsewhere.