Soft bulbs of morpho blue,
tight light pruned to a circuit,
the swallows feather and vector the wind.
I plume to watch, freshed in the ground;
they ring the trees as their own
sweet planets. Continuous streaks,
the green-blue preens take flying lessons,
beam to the ground they are bound by,
like no flown thing. They bring
around the ground and bright as floods
in winter, flap the wind that takes them,
pushes them into its envelope. The swallows,
so close, beat; I let them scrim
my stance, twist neatly solar.
I swallow, lift at my chest where the freckles
crack, where the wet wings gleam. Swallows
sweep out to swing my heart up with the hawk
who circles the skirmish, weeps, and screams.
This selection comes from Sandy Marchetti’s book A Detail in the Landscape, available from Eating Dog Press. Purchase your copy here!
Sandra Marchetti is the author of Confluence, a full-length poetry collection forthcoming from Gold Wake Press. Eating Dog Press published an illustrated edition of her essays and poetry, A Detail in the Landscape, in 2014, and her chapbook, The Canopy, is available from MWC Press. Sandy also won Second Prize in Prick of the Spindle’s 2014 Poetry Open and was a finalist in Gulf Coast’s Poetry Prize. Her work appears in The Journal, Subtropics, The Hollins Critic, Sugar House Review, Mid-American Review, Thrush Poetry Journal, Green Mountains Review, South Dakota Review, and elsewhere.
Andrew Koch’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Bluestem, Connotation Press, Mojo, Rust + Moth, and others. Although a Tennessee-native, Andrew presently lives in Spokane, Washington with his wife and cat while teaching literature and pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing at Eastern Washington University.
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