Exodus
Milk froths over, feathery in a glazed mug. I watch a woodpecker forget the geography of air—churn in the invisible. Then flee. I feel silence to mean what’s missing, never shapeless. Some days love. Another round of snow arriving, another mistake I’ll settle into as understanding more about what I’ve become. I am looking for the word that falls between almost and touch. That consideration. It has its own airspace. The gap where the juniper was chopped is a frame now. If only the light would enter, I could trick myself into believing it was heat.
—Megan Merchant
From Hortensia in Winter, New American Press, Copyright © 2024. Used by permission of the publisher. Photo by Adam Chang, Creative Commons, via Unsplash.
"The gap where the juniper was chopped is a frame now." I love that.
Megan Merchant's work is always so full of imagery. Love "I am looking for the word that falls between almost and touch." And "The gap where the juniper was chopped is a frame now." All so vividly framed ....