First Forty Days
1 Muddled stillness All summer Sun Punched the yellow jacket nest Cavernous paper Valved like a parched heart Over and over I let it Beat outside My body No dark to cradle The living part 2 The glare sears seeing Something moves out of the corner Often it is more nothing Tumbling From its silk sack. This stillness Shifts. Streak Of tiny particulars Pained in relation: the experience still So still It is invisible? It will settle, I will tell you Where the edges belong 3 River That bare aspiring edge That killing arrow Feathered from its Own wing Then the third River forms When pain’s lit Taper Drips Soft lip Of my vision Effacing, radiates A late, silty light My life Slowly bottoming Into thought
Copyright © 2018 by Michelle Gil-Montero. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 15, 2018, by the Academy of American Poets.