Volume IV Archive

Zach Savich

Post-script (4)

I've dismantled     the ladder and nailed
its scraps directly     to an elm
This is how the first     swimmers must have felt:
I dreamed you swam     out past the rocks and swam out   

 

Post-script (5)

                                    I've tried to see the gardener
leaning against the railing as     leaning against
the raining     The leaves go orange
like a hole opening     in the knee of my jeans
The leaves break     into a single leaf
I could never say tread     without hearing tremble
Bells in the square:     no pattern,
just time

 

Post-script (6)

In the silent film,
we measure the volume     of the flowerpot's crash
by how many pieces     it breaks into
We measure the volume     of the lion's roar
by how fast the villagers run     And if
the villagers continue     to process dyes
in earthern bowls?     The lion is silent
or internal

Read Part 1