gray like black waters
oil isn’t gone here,
isn’t part
for parcel— (a tower)
a man lifts his feet
on water,
— can’t stomp
across, can’t call across
for the hearing.
how, when simple
gestures
bring snakegrass,
bring a vast
blueness and hoodoo,
he wants so much
to move exactly
this
way &
— no, no, no, no,
it’s not like something
imagined
in dull movies.
~~~~~~~~
cata
strophe : the gray lung,
the song—
a gray, gull
song¬— & strong in arms: a buoy.
antistrophe : black nights
dull
into black gray—
say oceans part or come
called apart, a
a man
in a dark salt suit—
he smoothes his moustache.
~~~~~~~~
only once
came with a sharp twitch
a hometown eyeing
doubts as if a circateer’s top
hat floating on top of water:
a carnivale: an anything
outside your nervous system.
~~~~~~~~
Stacy Kidd is completing a PhD in English at the University of Utah. Her poems have appeared in Boston Review, Columbia, Eleven Eleven, The Iowa Review, and WITNESS, among others. Her chapbooks About Birds and A man in a boat in the summer are forthcoming this year. She is founder and editor of the new online journal intersection(s), which launches this fall and is found here: intersectionsjournal.org.
I really like these poems are so lovely all that is inspiring in literature excites me
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Prostate Surgery