from Pursuit
22
Away a lake
doesn’t
shine the light of
clear water
& where
the finches gone
this wind
rattling
the roofs of trailers
a small miracle
eggs remain
nests built of
plastic straws
twine weed
whacker wire
I don’t question
enough
how the sand opens
its
mouth
inside all the
teeth
are
just hands swaying
making
making
this chewing on molar
palm
incisor
finger
or I can
the pines
leavened with
future roots
waiting to pierce
loam
where I don’t dig
no longer the angel trumpets
full of nectar
this cavity in
my chest
fills
with light
with nectar
with vine
with flower
a tear in the eye
the shape of a tear
that doesn’t
fall not out of
sadness
but out of how
these things are
as people say they are
Dillon Thomas Clark is a writer, editor, and educator from New Jersey. Currently, they live in Tucson, Arizona where they are a MFA student at the University of Arizona and Editor-in-Chief of Sonora Review. They were named a finalist for the 2021 Sandy Crimmins National Prize for Poetry hosted by Philadelphia Stories and were a 2023 Southwest Field Studies in Writing Fellow. Their work appears in the tiny, Southwest Field Studies "From the Field," and is forthcoming in Cobra Milk.