V. Joshua Adams

Moonset

Easel, edged in vinyl leaf, precipitate 
this flesh unblamed. Come, arrow. Come, vein. 
 
Come slips and cleat and chains. 
Come stucco, numb, suck in 
 
what can be sewn: today, a rain 
so absolute dunked marble into cloud,
 
& the infant piles into a neck,
wet where base meets debt. 
 
 
Scattered through the hillside grove 
thoughts of you evaporate,
 
scents in an elastic sun.
Shadows tell no time but this: canvas tents,
 
corrals of chain-link fence, soot, 
puddles, sneakers, antennae --
 
these fix in eyes that spurn the day,
sweep noiseless through abandoned rooms.

--
V. Joshua Adams is the author of a chapbook, Cold Affections (Plan B Press, 2018). Work of his has appeared or is forthcoming in Painted Bride Quarterly, Mud Season Review, Tupelo Quarterly, and elsewhere. A former editor of Chicago Review, as well as a translator and critic, he teaches at the University of Louisville.