By Matthew Francis
After Robert Hooke
All afternoon a reddish trickle
a sort of rust that shines and dances.
traveler finicking its way round
A finger felled in their path rocks them,
the air for subtle intelligence,
They are fidgety subjects to draw.
kill one, the juices evaporate
I dunked one in brandy. It struggled
I let it soak an hour, then dried it,
the grinning vice of its sideways jaw,
Some draft stirred it then. It rose to all
The epigraph of this poem was originally omitted in the changeover to the new website. Because of this, reciting the epigraph is optional for the 2019-2020 Poetry Out Loud season.
Source: Poetry (October 2014)
More Poems about Nature
How to Triumph Like a Girl
I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
is as fun as taking a nap, or grass.
I like their lady horse swagger,
after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!
But mainly, let’s be honest,...
Sestina in Prose
It was like climbing a mountain to those of us who’d climbed one. To the others, it was like, I suppose, something else. In other words, we let everybody find her own figure of speech.
Not that it—speech—lay thick on the...