This poem appears in the Summer 2021 issue of Modern Age. To subscribe, click here.

A water-hearth, this tub contains the wide
Horizon, cut length of infinitude,
The incandescent bulb my moon, as smooth and nude,
Subordinated light that draws the tide.

The sound rain makes when it thinks on the roof
Attends me in the shower—I’m all one ear.
From sieve to drain, I’m tumbled through, live proof
That water speaks. Our first word is a tear.

I aim to net one wordless thought per day,
Found at that place before the rainfalls pour
Down phrases, some lines lyric, some lines prose,
To seize the silences all set to play
Chords pitched so perfectly their echo goes
On swimming, always just about to reach the shore.

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