by Zoë Pollock
"Sermons and Lectures Both Blank and Relentless" by Matt Hart:
When the snowball melts, the fight melts with it
We stomp through the puddles, getting wet
to our gill slits The sun beams down The earth
shoots up How weird to be a blade of grass,
a living breathing stripe of green I see a place of rest
in the not too distant present, but whether we can make it
will depend on whose embankment What
feathers What seating, an aisle or a window Cross-
word puzzle or Scrabble tray table I love
the word escarpment, but can’t much ever use it
The thing to do is dig a ditch Always accompany
the elderly dog One can hide out One can
fill up on joy One can stay the night
in the fire by the hearth What’s inside us
Lots of worms This is your reminder
of the life after this one
More of the poem is here.
(Image by Dutch photographer Misha de Ridder, who seeks symmetry in nature.)
The Dish 