midway
Zach Savich
bees vanish but also hive in more spots sunglasses in grasses a
billowing tarp plain air evidence of their going rust prevents
corrosion you’re trying to make a place more than to make it to a
place vegetal rust
wrens campari-rinsed it serves she said the tumors must be holy
bringing you as they do so close clothesline cloudburst and clovers
the mind’s more wax than wick posts abraded soft a psalm that starts
perhaps perhaps try this same piece of the puzzle in the same gap
next month
Zach Savich is the author of eight books of poetry and prose, including Daybed (Black Ocean, 2018). Recent work has appeared in jubilat, Kenyon Review, Fonograf Editions Magazine, Salt Hill, Pleiades, Verse Daily, and elsewhere. He teaches at the Cleveland Institute of Art.