Poetry, Week 27: Adam Day
The Sky’s Sky
Snakes of river fog,
women arm in arm,
slow rain
in the woods, movement
of mind, lotuses rocking
as a boat casts off.
A History of Violence
The earth
gives up
its dead, un-
disappearing
the breathless,
even the asphalt,
cracked like the sea,
sounds out
lost names.
Flecks of blood
evaporating
in the night,
they get up
out of their
corpses, camellias
growing from
their empty eyes
they turn
to the stuttering
sky, with mouths
of light.
Adam Day is the author of Left-Handed Wolf (LSU Press, 2020), 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 America Literary Award. He publishes the literary journal, Action, Spectacle.