Morning is a Sword
Slicing through roots of adages, the days
are shorter & I count them. Lucky to be
storm-chasing near the Pacific, eating fresh
radishes. The farmer I once was can’t see
the pirate I’ve become, darkness behind
eyelids tied together by lashes in salty
knots. Sharpened, this inglorious morning
sprains into existence like the frayed hem
on jeans turned into shorts or the Persian
rug with pet stains or the fringes of day
as it begins & always ends. Do I pull her
stockings off the shower rack? They’re dry
now, never wet. The ocean approaches
like a sneeze. I fold napkins into weapons.
This poem was written for the 20 Poem Challenge.
JIM DAVIS is a student of Human Development and Psychology at Harvard University and has previously studied at Northwestern University and Knox College. He reads for TriQuarterly and his work has appeared in Bellevue Literary Review, The Harvard Crimson, Portland Review, Midwest Quarterly, and California Journal of Poetics, among others. In addition to writing and painting, Jim is an international semi-professional American football player. @JimDavisArt
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