[PASSING DISCARDED]
Passing discarded
suitcases on the way
to the engine house.
Rain water uncovers teeth
from a creek bed.
[THE MAN SITS UP,]
The man sits up,
north shore of the river,
where willow roots
vein the ground.
Bats rock in the furrows
of the water face. Those aren’t
quite hands they have.
[ICE SMOTHERS THE FOREST. ABANDONED ]
Ice smothers the forest. Abandoned
card catalogue standing in pasture
snow. Swamp deer call together.
And someone hollers
with them. Out of season, cardinals
screw at the suet feeder, and flakes
emerge from afternoon shadow.
Adam Day is the author of A Model of City in Civil War (Sarabande Books), and is the recipient of a PSA Chapbook Fellowship for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a PEN Emerging Writers Award. His poems have appeared in Boston Review, The Kenyon Review, American Poetry Review, The Iowa Review, Poetry London, and elsewhere. He directs The Baltic Writing Residency in Sweden, Scotland, and Blackacre Nature Preserve.
