Losses That Walk
posted Jul 1, 2014
From the road, a distant house half-hiding in an assembly
of trees. The woman comes home through calf-high snow, face
a crust of molded glass. Door locked and key lost. Still, she beats
the only door. From the house darkness a sparrow
slams into the window, sends her ass-to-earth. One panel of glass
cracked, just interior black, and the noise of snow. It's a long time
to wait in an outhouse for someone to come let the bird out.
©
Badger, Apocrypha, and of a PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work has appeared in the Boston Review, Lana Turner, APR, Poetry London, AGNI, The Iowa Review, and elsewhere. He coordinates The Baltic Writing Residency in Latvia, Scotland, and Bernheim Arboretum & Research Forest.
's forthcoming collection is A Model of City in Civil War (Sarabande Books, April 2015), and he is the recipient of a PSA Chapbook Fellowship for