posted Mar 29, 2016

There's something uneasy in the field.
A wake. A ripple in the cloth.
We see the green corn moving
but not the thing that moves it.
The atoms of our bodies turn
bright gold and silky. Aimed
at death, we live. We keep on
doing this. Night unfolds helplessly
into day. Beyond the field are more
fields and through them, too:
this current. What is it? Where
is it going? Did you see it? Can you
catch it? Can you kill it? Can you hold
it still? Can you hold it still forever?

Jenny George's poems have appeared in Cimarron Review, The Collagist, Crab Orchard Review, FIELD, Gulf Coast, Indiana Review, and Shenandoah. She is the recipient of fellowships from the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, the Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Fund, the MacDowell Colony, and Yaddo Corporation. She is also a winner of the 2015 "Discovery"/Boston Review Poetry Prize.

Jenny lives in Santa Fe, NM. She received her MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop.

George’s poem “Westward Expansion” also appears in this issue.