Sponsored by Century magazine.
View, with Cardinals
To say, this hour teeters over a chasm
is one path to understanding.
To say, come May, sunlight thickens
like pulled taffy is a choice.
But what are the alternatives, given such
a scrap bag of fragments, figments:
a truck’s ignition, close
of a mailbox, step of a child upstairs.
Dry sounds, though the morning
smelled like every screen door
you ever pressed your nose to, wishing.
The cardinals keep scraping away. Find me.