Slip the Future Into It - Zone 3

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black and white overlays of feminine faces

Volume 40, Issue 1
Volume 40, Issue 1

Slip the Future Into It

By John A. Nieves

If the shadow is there, something must be
casting it. If you can hear the breeze, there

must be friction somewhere. And that breeze, no
doubt, once was breath, once was words, once

was a secret kept so well only the trees
know it now. If there is heat, there must be

pressure, gravity—core or star. If there is a me, there
must be a you. If transit, then location. Oh, I know

the blue light in the window looks cold, but there
are billions of particles flickering to make that

one room glow. And people love to throw
worthless truths: it is hard to backstroke

when you are dead, it is impossible to fall
off the world, our bodies would be terrible

at holding up buildings. But some truths work
like shadows—they must imply something

else. Next is a place I have never been to. Before
is a place I can never get to again. You are thinking

in a place far from me, but also right here
in these lines as we roll out into whatever is

after: we can hold us and us is made
of you and I.

About John A. Nieves

John A. Nieves has poems forthcoming or recently published in journals such as: Alaska Quarterly Review, Iowa Review, American Poetry Review, swamp pink and 32 Poems. A 2025 Pushcart Prize winner, he also won the Indiana Review Poetry Contest and his first book, Curio, won the Elixir Press Annual Poetry Award Judge’s Prize. He is associate professor of English at Salisbury University and an editor of The Shore Poetry.

black and white overlays of feminine faces

Volume 40, Issue 1
Volume 40, Issue 1

Slip the Future Into It

By John A. Nieves

If the shadow is there, something must be
casting it. If you can hear the breeze, there

must be friction somewhere. And that breeze, no
doubt, once was breath, once was words, once

was a secret kept so well only the trees
know it now. If there is heat, there must be

pressure, gravity—core or star. If there is a me, there
must be a you. If transit, then location. Oh, I know

the blue light in the window looks cold, but there
are billions of particles flickering to make that

one room glow. And people love to throw
worthless truths: it is hard to backstroke

when you are dead, it is impossible to fall
off the world, our bodies would be terrible

at holding up buildings. But some truths work
like shadows—they must imply something

else. Next is a place I have never been to. Before
is a place I can never get to again. You are thinking

in a place far from me, but also right here
in these lines as we roll out into whatever is

after: we can hold us and us is made
of you and I.

Volume 40, Issue 1
Volume 40, Issue 1

Slip the Future Into It

By John A. Nieves

If the shadow is there, something must be
casting it. If you can hear the breeze, there

must be friction somewhere. And that breeze, no
doubt, once was breath, once was words, once

was a secret kept so well only the trees
know it now. If there is heat, there must be

pressure, gravity—core or star. If there is a me, there
must be a you. If transit, then location. Oh, I know

the blue light in the window looks cold, but there
are billions of particles flickering to make that

one room glow. And people love to throw
worthless truths: it is hard to backstroke

when you are dead, it is impossible to fall
off the world, our bodies would be terrible

at holding up buildings. But some truths work
like shadows—they must imply something

else. Next is a place I have never been to. Before
is a place I can never get to again. You are thinking

in a place far from me, but also right here
in these lines as we roll out into whatever is

after: we can hold us and us is made
of you and I.

About John A. Nieves

John A. Nieves has poems forthcoming or recently published in journals such as: Alaska Quarterly Review, Iowa Review, American Poetry Review, swamp pink and 32 Poems. A 2025 Pushcart Prize winner, he also won the Indiana Review Poetry Contest and his first book, Curio, won the Elixir Press Annual Poetry Award Judge’s Prize. He is associate professor of English at Salisbury University and an editor of The Shore Poetry.