Tuesday, February 13, 2024

How Slowly By Thomas Zimmerman

Some days, how slowly flows the river: that
of consciousness, and I a crumbling cork
in it. Oh rudderless. I think of all
the swimmers in my streams, some surfers too.
All hunted down: white sharks. My screen glows whiter
than potential, clean blank canvas stretched,
which I, most days, mistake for nothingness.
Last night, twice, thunder shook the house. An inch
of rain. So muggier than hell today.
But after work, I saw a fawn, curled cool
in backyard spruce shade, looking at me with
intent, or so it seemed. But I admit
I often think that you are looking at
me that way too. You like to say you’re not.


Thomas Zimmerman (he/him) teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review https://thebigwindowsreview.com/ at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA. His poems have appeared recently in dadakuku, Grand Little Things, and The Minison Zine. His latest book is Dead Man's Quintet (Cyberwit, 2023). https:/thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com Twitter: @bwr_tom IG: tzman2012 FB: Tom.Zimmerman.315