top of page

Clothespins




in the storm before I couldn’t see I saw a window boarded with a curved

    board cut exact

I was learning to see buzzards not as bearers of death but working to bear it

     away

now say how lucky with another tone

steaming asparagus the water is tinted from purple in the stalks






Clothespins




I don’t need to sing the song in my head it’s playing anyway

down the street in the sedation known as twilight the lake is a jar in clear

     water

fireflies in trees flickering a month later you’ll see it’s dying xmas lights

she made air-quotes with her phone in one hand it changed the song

a good story could be I saw a turtle in the road






Clothespins




paths of desire they call the routes we take across the green our everyday cut-

     throughs

the bridge is a single board we walk on it even when the stream is dry

the eternal produces nothing it’s already here I stay awake to confirm it

the trees look natural meaning their branches angle unnaturally we’re

    outside now in the dream

outside a blossom it’s still too dark to see

the longest enduring blossom is one style of enduring the first new buds are

    another






Clothespins




the child pencils eyelashes on the doll so it might see

pencils them thicker “now she can see at night”

you have to know a lot to know what no knowledge changes and knowing

     that much changes, you know, a lot

lullaby: rain falling so fast it dries the clothes on the line

she put my ear plugs under the pillow exactly where I reach

between nothing else and nothing more

to find mercy is

to find mercy in

it means you must have

it means you must have needed to find some mercy there

to find some mercy there






Clothespins




I hoped for another thing

hope became it


it’s no critique of the nest that it fits only its bird


fixed the door by     removed it

fixed the faucet by     turned off the pump


*


the story went basil sun basil rain basil cat cat cat











Zach Savich’s latest books are the poetry collection Momently (Black Ocean, 2024) and the hybrid critical-dramatic memoir for performance A Field of Telephones (53rd State, 2025). Recent work appears in the Chicago Review, Iowa Review, Georgia Review, and elsewhere. He teaches at the Cleveland Institute of Art.

bottom of page