The Wanderer in You

by Jed Myers


Winner of the 2026 Online Poetry Contest

Judged by Diana Khoi Nguyen

Such a slender, arresting poem that at once sees, perhaps, both itself (its speaker), and also me, its reader (a reader, any reader). Tendril-ly minimal in form, but maximal in its sonic delight, “The Wanderer in You” peels back the layers of a self to unfurl the textured symphonies previously hidden: “ceiling the solarium / dome of your skull // roof a loose thatch / of shifting flightpaths . . .” This is a poem of exquisite details—one that notes “those ears behind your ears”—it detects, senses beyond the five senses: it knows what is present beyond the present moment: it perceives across time.”


whose nights flash

dread’s bioluminescence

whose bed is a tideline

of sticks shells syringes

your walls as sheer

as the gauze of bandages

eyelids translucent

as dragonfly wings

ceiling the solarium

dome of your skull

roof a loose thatch

of shifting flightpaths

and those ears

behind your ears

funneling remote

clicks and pistons

your heart a radio

telescope set to max

ready for boot-storm

scanning the uncanny

quiet of the square

in your spine you are sure

the flood of blind glares

the clubs like before

the thuds your bowels hear

you are sure

the wanderer in you

old as the first

name for god and that

lie its command

on a wind from the sky

for a cleansing

your breath remembers

and turns your eye

to watch the harbor

a boat is a road

wherever it carries

your grandchildren

you won’t have to say

a word

About the Author

Jed Myers’ fourth book of poetry, Can’t Be Far (MoonPath Press, 2026), was a finalist for the Sally Albiso Award. His poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Rattle, RHINO, Poetry Northwest, Southern Indiana Review, The Greensboro Review, The Southeast Review, and elsewhere. Myers lives in Seattle, where he edits Bracken.

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