X tries to unlove someone after the heart has opened.
A billion stars, I say. A billion
Have tried to unlove the loved, they have torn themselves into
holes trying and
into them now tired light seeps and into them tired light seeps
And therein, (there or in the cavity of your chest, X) tired light
its knuckles, breaks its thin bones seeking respite from godliness.
Philip Jason’s stories can be found in magazines such as Prairie Schooner, The Pinch, Mid-American Review, Ninth Letter, and J Journal; his poetry in Spillway, Lake Effect, Canary and Summerset Review. He is a recipient of the Henfield Prize in Fiction. His first collection of poetry, I Don’t Understand Why It’s Crazy to Hear the Beautiful Songs of Nonexistent Birds, is forthcoming from Fernwood Press.