Giornata
If you call it a diary it better not seem
too much like it If you call it a dairy it
butter The poem is ruined and can
do as it likes The better
to see The desire to change your life
prevented a change
*
Do you prefer the moment when things
become other things or potentially
anything The latter is more precise
The hay became a canal But isn’t the memory
of the orchard the turn
onto gravel
As Hair for the Broom
We examined our motives and found
them sufficient The carved icons
in the back of his truck weren’t deliveries they
stayed there Consistency is texture not all
the same it emerges A basketball
worn smooth
*
Or freize of shaggy peonies Stratus
flak Garbage piled new places a while
before the trucks adjust or there’s shade
only exactly on the undersides
of leaves But about being swept up
The sweeping also smooths
Zach Savich is author of six books of poetry, including Daybed (Black Ocean, 2018) and The Orchard Green and Every Color (Omnidawn, 2016), and two books of nonfiction. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in the Brooklyn Rail, the Georgia Review, Poetry Northwest, and elsewhere. Zach teaches at the Cleveland Institute of Art and co-edits Rescue Press’s Open Prose Series.