Ark in the Field
BY JOYCE PESEROFF
One morning you open
one eye and listing to the south
it bulks like a barn,
planks horizontal and deeply grooved.
A rudder the size of your front door
pivots as you push. Once
inside you can smell
the fear of every winged,
creeping and four-legged thing:
no water, no straw,
just shadow and bare wood.
Where is the one promised
to wake beside you forever?
Ox-eyed daisies, goldenrod, clover—
why are you breathing
among them, why don’t you gather
the outcast beasts or become one…
Joyce Peseroff, “Ark in the Field” from Eastern Mountain Time. Copyright © 2006 by Joyce Peseroff. Reprinted by permission of Carnegie Mellon University Press.
Source: Eastern Mountain Time (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 2006)