Adam Clay
Psalm: And The Light
And the light the light I do not mourn is a lean-to
Below the night sky Punctured night sky now
Farewell poppies Farewell throated-sun
A lake behind the dunes hidden behind a sigh of sand
A kneel darling a bending of the knees a back broken tiny prayer of sparrow
Healed Repaired A penny for my Lord
An autopsied tree grown divine
under the flickering light of this room
All of these things and more
Psalm: As If I Could
As if I could stare into the woods long enough to make you appear
A tree holds your form A form holds itself only as long as an eye
is present The sky cries out
But its cry can’t keep its volume
constant Scent of fire Ash in a box Bones
be carried off by Carrion Crows Adapt to the grip of air
As if I could remain silent with the noise all around
As if the weight of a deity on my back could whisper mortality in one ear
Out the other
Let a voice precede each disaster
Let reverence live forever
Psalm: Siphoned Sky
Siphoned sky Certain smoke Hesitation Ground to tiny bits
Lately late river Grasp of ice
Darling expanse To think regret And mean mend
Inward forecast light snow Light
Forecast Glass man Straw on fire
Atmospheric foyer Vestibule of light
Shoes piled wetly on each other
And under each other Broken ankle
Removed stain with blood A laugh turned inside-out
Adam Clay is the author of The Wash (Parlor Press, 2006) and A Hotel Lobby at the Edge of the World (Milkweed Editions, forthcoming). He lives in Michigan and co-edits Typo Magazine.