zafusy

Basic as mud
Hammer pocked.

Who cradles it?
My wrist
I allow to thin and

Curl to an end–
Scythe or limb
Trembling water.

Crouched in morning
Light is
A settling

Of dust and water
Metals
And teeth.

As he who keeps–
The pan
Is green–

This belly I split
A radiant fish.

Daniel Schillinger

View all poems by Daniel Schillinger