—Zach Savich


If the dead have preferences they must prefer the future tense

Will you be sitting by a window in this year
As though asking affirms

What wouldn’t they affirm
Shirt hung for a curtain

Having washed it in the sink each night
My ship will be the turning one

Its sail is shining rain

 


Trees in the week before there’s any thought of blossoming

When bare wood in sun
Is more than enough

Take-out guy idles by the longest vent in this city
I tighten by hand the reachable bolts

I have the kind of face that shows everything I’ve seen
She touched my tongue and said it should feel like this when you say it

I’m an easel in a bin of onions

 


I see one gardening, how old is she, gloves like that

I’m asking for a friend
Total extinction will be a moment now

I’ve never done anything for a day
Teeth, I won’t need you

Still, eternity can’t get over us
What’s an apple blossom to you

No one here but your bracelet on my watch
 

Zach Savich

Zach Savich's most recent books are the poetry collection The Orchard Green and Every Color and the memoir Diving Makes the Water Deep. He teaches in the BFA Program for Creative Writing at the University of the Arts and co-edits Rescue Press's Open Prose Series.

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2017