I see you in the rain, dear pater
And I wonder when you're comin' home.
The world has been hard, steps falter,
And I want to rest my weary bones
Beside your marble slate --
I  wish Death arrived late.


She fancies ideas uttered
By his well-versed lips -
Yet sweet nothings to empty airs she mutters:
(Do roses bloom after kissing clips?)
But how does one confess to loving
That which grows in another's mind?


The prisoner is a great dreamer,
And my heart, my happy prison -
Ecstasy and pain do produce an anxious tension
But rhapsodic Imagination makes a liberating healer,
Do you hear the nightingale, there, beyond the bars?
A shade, a distant dream, cloaked in velvet between the stars?


Currently pursuing a master's degree in English Literature, Cody Grey first and foremost views themselves more as a scholar than a poet. Studies in British Romanticism, however, does not stop them from word-slinging short verse. Their poems often explore loss and the anxious tension that comes with occupying borderlands of identity. Their work previously appears in The Outrider Review.