Lay me in the ash. Ask
the asp if it knows
which way is home.
Isn't it in your human
heart? it might whisper
earless, poison
-pocked. What can
you tell a thing that
cannot hear how
we found our
ears pressed together,
how we reneged
when the kernels we begged
popped white as country
stars, as the egg
folded in the asp's un
-answerable curls.
How can you lay
down with me
if you can't think of any
-more doomed questions?
©
's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Colorado Review, Third Coast, Boston Review, New Orleans Revie, and Best New Poets 2012, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA from The Ohio State University, and currently resides in Seattle, WA.
Adkisson’s poem “The Problem with Wings” also appears in this issue.
