by Zachary Daniel

 

Perfect the art
of guerrilla warfare.

Cast off in paper boats
and surf the coast of drapes.

Amass themselves
like self-assembling snowmen.

Crawl into your mouth
while you sleep.

Ply their hooks
in the tentpoles of tomcats.

Live the dream
of the Jeffersonian yeoman.

Play the Greek chorus
to our domestic affairs.

Wish for children
though all their wombs are barren.

Menace the various rodents
that wait on the threshold.

Crowd each other for warmth
when the first frost comes.

Agree that God doesn’t care much for his creation,
but does exist.

Send postcards to old friends
in indecipherable script.

Launch no missiles,
not even bottle rockets.

Lope away on chalk feet
trailing sticks and match-smoke.

Wait for lovers to arrive
on the five o’clock train of your boots.

Are moved to tears when a sunbeam
alights in their dank corner.

On the verge of sleep, see their lives
as one great contradiction.

 

 

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Zachary Daniel is a librarian and poet based in Louisville, Kentucky. His poetry is inspired by the natural world, literature, and the metaphysics of the commonplace. His poetry is published or forthcoming in The Pierian.