Birdsong, the tossed lasso
uncoils note by frayed
note, singing—
birdshot, and a smudge
scared-up into powdered
air—wet feathers
in high grass, wet feathers
in the bird dog’s sweet
muzzle—her sweeping tail.
I stow our gear low
in the pickup bed, sip black
coffee from stainless steel.
Dark-wet nose to dirt,
the dog wanders off—
godspeed, the day.
At work, slinging drinks
under neon, the dog
sleeps underfoot.
Last patrons slink out
into the dusty dark,
the parking lot’s
lights go out one
by one—the locks
click into place behind
them. After toweling
down the bar, I count
the take. I take
count, reaching toward
another tomorrow,
the empty sky, a witness.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 4.
Derek JG Williams puts words into rows both long and short. He’s an MFA candidate at UMass Boston. His poems are published or forthcoming in Prairie Schooner, New Ohio Review, and Best New Poets 2013.
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