Poetry

Dream of the Last Shaker

by
• 58 words

We stream into the meetinghouse
through two doors

like twin cords
in the same braid.

I love the men,
all of them

lined up like
God’s long finger.

The sun attends everything
equally: the wood, the bend

of her white muslin sleeve,
the outstretched arm of the apocalypse.

Take hold of my shoulder.
Shake me awake.

Damian Rogers wrote Dear Leader. She is the magazine’s poetry editor, and the creative director of Poetry in Voice/Les voix de la poésie, a national bilingual recitation contest for high school students.