I clock in at 9
To count and recount
(Not Sisyphus
More Ovid)
Tension wires
Reaching the distance
I’m laying napkins
end to end
Beginning to see
Where I am
A crab apple tree
Was here
I measure what remains
By the new grass
Alive in the circumference
Where bows once wept
How I love
A ruin
How we lie
end to end
Beth Ayer is a
poet and editor. You can read her poems in Apartment
Poetry, Divine Magnet, Jubilat, Ocean State Review, and Sixth
Finch. She lives in Easthampton, MA. Her debut chapbook, LIMPING TO THE BIG
BAD, is out soon with above/ground press.
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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