Poetry by Joe Barca
I press my hand to the ribs of your past.
All things uneven. Crows screech. And
I hold the wire. Unsteady. My mother
told me that you marry a family. But I
only want a community of you. All of this
incompleteness and all of these expectations.
We stock a shelf with the clay of our hearts.
About the Poet
Joe is a writer from New England. His poetry has been included in a number of print and online publications. He has also self-published three short poetry books. His poem, “Pools”, was included in Vita Brevis in 2018. He is a husband, a father, and the owner of a Wheaten Terrier. You can follow him on twitter – @shepherdmoon53.