Friday Poem



By voice, by camera

by tea lights, by night

by spit across a void

you say

dark water, such dark water. The note is held so long you forget it is there.

And then we are going about the day. And the kids need to be picked up from school

but aren’t even born yet. Wandering the house,

Leaving the work desk for water in a dixie cup, forgetting the water

In the dixie cup. One day you come home from work early,

you find nothing

in bed with your wife. You were never there, she says

nothing lived next door.

In other stories

the day is still happening.


The day is still happening.

I take a walk in the sun.

I catch a glimpse

of what it might be like

being another person.

The palm folds over

itself. The horizon halves

another apple, another day

another man. Quick light

moon spike.

Other residents of this instance

become shadow.

Other residents

hold hands.

by Samson Stilwell
from Academy of American Poets