Waterfalling Children
Future kids of the present fire – strange generation, self- fashioning within the current colony; love- fury; blood smell of salt, spit, drone whir; bare energy bodies.
Sliding Away From The World
Neighbor spent the night in a ditch over there and did they beat him. Certainly; with a busted boot, eating his light in their rage against the waning body that can’t do anymore.
The Attack
Burrowing beetles, creaking, try to make the quiet corpse rise from the dead. So, she wakes in dry leaves, snails – ear to the ground’s sound of tunneling moles; perspective ajar, stomach full of stones, locked face, shadowed surroundings, a fist full of the bastard’s hair.
Adam Day is the author of Illuminated Edges (Kelsay Books), Left-Handed Wolf (LSU Press), and of Model of a City in Civil War (Sarabande Books), and the recipient of a Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a PEN Award.
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