Still Life with Winter (Lauren Camp)

Still Life with Winter

Under the persistent tight light, we exist
on the map of sever and snow. From the dirt road,

A red-faced sun domes on future mallow,
different pigweeds, thistle
and other shivered recitals. I am in the clutch

to get out of town, to drive south past split pinon
and flat rooftops through the new moon, its gash
hypnotic. Your eyes say you are wallowed in the pitiful

tantrums of thorny clients, their juxtaposed
dates and punishment of the unclaimed cents.

Bare of all hope of completion, you calculate
every side of after hours while my body mutters
to be plucked from the slick cold scarring

our earth. Down south, the egrets
sail white on a sky that unknots.

—Lauren Camp
—from Zone 3 (Fall 2016)

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