Drifting at Midday

By Malachi Black Malachi Black
Now I can see: even the trees
are tired: they are bones bent forward

in a skin of wind, leaning in
osteoporosis, reaching

for a little more than any
oxygen can give: when living

is in season, they can live;
but living is no reason

to continue: everything begins:
and everything is desperate

to extend: and everything is
insufficient in the end:

and everything is ending:
Now I can see: even the trees

Source: Poetry (September 2009).


This poem originally appeared in the September 2009 issue of Poetry magazine

September 2009
 Malachi  Black


Malachi Black is the author of Storm Toward Morning (Copper Canyon Press, 2014) and two limited edition chapbooks: Quarantine (2012) and Echolocation (2010). A recipient of a 2009 Ruth Lilly Fellowship, Black has also received recent fellowships and awards from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, the MacDowell Colony, the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, the University of Texas at Austin’s . . .

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Poem Categorization

SUBJECT Living, Disappointment & Failure, Death, Nature, Trees & Flowers, The Body

POET’S REGION U.S., Mid-Atlantic

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