"Day 30" by Anton Getzlaf

Day 30

So far so clean,
You count your sprouting seeds
With oily fingers.

Though burnt and sprung,
A smoking gun to disapproving aunts,
The blue-black night is with you.
Your luck is dust upon you.

And though an opened door,
Or foxes’ little footsteps
Could send a portion flying upward,
Bound for somewhere else,
You’re coated with the stuff
As much as trays with ash
Or trees with pollen.

Anton Getzlaf

Anton Getzlaf is a poet living in Portland, Oregon. He works as a school custodian.

Headshot: Anton Getzlaf

Photo Credit: Staff