Kelly R. Samuels
The Alpha Privative
Days and months are nonsense,
nonsensical. Only the year surfaces
and a season, recalled
from bare arms, canvas shoes.
Here are three words: church
Name them, again,
fifteen minutes from now.
After drawing the cube. After reciting
the days of the week backwards, and, too,
What flowed at the hill’s base, muddy,
its banks crumbling.
Parts of this organ are going dark. Pulling away
from the skull, like a nut inside a shell – what we shook,
listening for the soft rattle.
You shake your head, say: I am losing
All the dates are nothing now. And where
the poppy is planted – a map is needed. Here.
on this page.
Kelly R. Samuels is a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in various journals including The Carolina Quarterly, Sweet Tree Review, Salt Hill, Permafrost, and RHINO. She lives in the upper Midwest and has two chapbooks being released in early 2019.