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๐—ก๐—ฒ๐˜„ ๐—›๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฒ

๐˜ฃ๐˜บ ๐˜‹๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฅ ๐˜‹๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ด



A retrograde spring. The faster turn of

horizonโ€™s hills nearer than they should be.

We name our own poles, of course, but a place

exerts a natural pull just as our

evolution understands โ€” faltering โ€”

that we are not home, no longer rest on

the cornerstone of distant ancestors.


I am in a valley where the daylight

holds a shade hardly outside the spectrum

of my eyes. The shadows change place at quick

angles and a year switches from snow to

sudden flowering before a season

has settled into enjoyment. I find

an extraordinary circumstance

is easier to digest than this slight

off-color. Local phenomena that

lack an analogue โ€“ these I can stare at

in comfort. But for a shade of sky which

almost mocks. I will stare but... at nothing.

The vertigo of obscure stars above;

they shine in nights and winters shorter than

a body remembers, that not even

a cycle of generations negates.


Not at home in a new home. So how long

โ€˜til roots take hold in soils of strange enzymes?

Longer than this, as the sun overhead

moves faster than we feel it should and weight

of a new lessened gravity does not

hug as tight; it leaves a yearning, a wish

in the base of the brain, an odd stress in

depths that are farther than reach.


I turn back

up a hillside of remote scrub, to find

intent in the work lying before me.




The poems of David Davies explore the traditional-made-new, something he has lived as a first generation immigrant to the USA. His writing has been published in Typishly Literary Journal, Ripples In Space, Moon Shadow Sanctuary, and Green Lantern Press, among others. He is a two-time winner of the King Edward Prize for youth poetry and an active member of the Science Fiction Poetry Association of America.



Speculative fiction & POETRY ZINE
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