To wait in the evergreens
By Richard Fox
as you must—in evergreens prior to
daylight or savings—many cars will pass
through the ether. To wait in the evergreens
is just like you, who never owned a farthing—
your smartphone is a chocolate bar
tilted to your ear. To you, starving
is a kind of theater, but no one would
blame you, were you to come up lacking,
for going back home, taking off your
shoes, & placing them beside your bed;
no one could blame you if you were to
polish them laboriously, blacking
them for when you are walk-sore—
a stoop-shouldered melee in a fedora.
In your new mobility, you will
walk through a tall hedge, & mid
step, you’ll be done in the fledge of an eyelid.
To wait like water that fills the lowland
aquifers beneath the hill, is to be the deep
that wrinkles & tears like paper, & keeps
alive the grass that shares—
with this perpetual place of needle-fall—
the shade & caul of the ample Earth.
Those who appear dead, for all it’s worth,
remain here, & walk with us through fire
or through wood; honey & pasture standing
where they stood; no sweet without the sting.
Richard Fox has been a regular contributor of poetry and visual art to online and print literary journals. He has been recipient of a full poetry fellowship from the Illinois Arts Council, a CAAP work support grant from the City of Chicago, and a work fellowship at the Millay Colony.
Swagger & Remorse, his first book of poetry, was published in 2007. He is currently working on several collections of soundscapes, which are being made available online at Bandcamp.
A poet and visual artist, he holds a BFA in Photography from Temple University, Philadelphia. A former Chicago resident, he now lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. He can be found on Twitter and Instagram.