After being hungover and facedown in a wildflower field in an unincorporated town outside of Fresno by Kelly Egan

All the tiny stems 
are popping right back up 
from where my body has just been 
alleviating my concerns of killing 
what I’ve just recognized, intimately, as a world. 

As a world they go on by themselves. 
As a wild they do not easily succumb. 

Which brings us to an ethics of picking them— 
            At the moment such a gesture 
            is the very etymology 
                        of violence— 

Which brings us to an ethics of silence, 
            sparse grackle and a mile-deep breeze 
                          challenging the substance of words— 

Which brings us to an ethics of crawling through a hole 
in the fence to the other side’s even more orange: 

Because we could we did not. 
Because we could but did not 
we then understood 

how indigenously, how to the moment  
precisely evolved they are always arising— 
the property lines, and pleasures of 

                                                         /  / abiding them.

Kelly Egan’s poems have appeared in Colorado ReviewLaurel ReviewRHINODenver QuarterlyLuna LunaBlazeVOXWhite Stag, and elsewhere. Her manuscript was recently a finalist in the Midwest Chapbook Contest. She lives in San Francisco and has an MFA in Poetry from Saint

Mary’s College of CA. She likes to think about outer space and visit small towns.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s