by Jay Udall
Come into droning corridors,
seething heat, exhausted air,
come from wandering seeds
finding cracks, seams in asphalt
and cement, climb through gravel
shoulders, up from a few grains
of grit, diesel soot, among fierce
weeds, crushed plastic, metal, glass
fragments, single shoes, rise
between dichotomies of thought,
wars raging against the Other,
come silently, unnoticed until
your spindly spine and branches
lift your lucid, disarming blue.
Jay Udall‘s latest book of poetry is Reach Beyond Reach (2022 Comstock Review Chapbook Prize). His poems have recently appeared in Great River Review, SLAB, Bangalore Review, and Arlington Literary Journal. He lives in northern Virginia, where he teaches English and lives with four feral animals: a spouse, a daughter, a hound, and a cat.