from Pursuit
4
Top sill
shriveled succulent
leaves
I should
leave the front door
shut
the sun milky off-white
an eggshell shattering
open sky
no
yolk
imagine
my body here
a tiny container
like a
red fiber
spool
gray wood
desk
compartment
gold
spoon
head
into
your mouth
breeze
escapes
the hole cut in
blue clouds
arranged
fingers pointing
what we can
name
hope
long
into living
the marsh
filled
insects
crawling in
mud greeting
you
their mouth-razor
grins
the pain stalls
then
resets the
knife carving
clean flesh
in bed
window summer into
view
the pines
shaking growing fine
shaking growing
fine
shaking
growing fine
shaking
growing
fine
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.