Looking for their night roost, tiny
birds drop like stars into the darkened dead trees
around me. I thought
dreams were like water, that we
can’t smell anything there. And then you visited me,
your body whole again
but the must of extinction on your breath.
This poem was adapted from Forrest Gander’s forthcoming book, Mojave Ghost: A Novel Poem. It appeared in the July/August 2024 print edition.
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