Dillon Clark
from Pursuit
II
Another night
heart exteriors
its wet
& cold air
not unlike
smoke trailing
down-canyon
sky a red
lysis of fire
longing is
an ecosystem of
what-if
all the leaves
fall showing the
branches in flesh
or green paper
your hands folding
halves of me
& again
you grip
my thighs once
give me more
from Pursuit
VI
Cold wind
blows ice
crystals
open windows
into
the night’s
long breath
streetlight
jerking
its prismatic
neck
through oil
slicked water
& I’m
in bed
with him
just want
the engine
firing without
stalling
only so
much sap
can be taken
from a dry
fibrous trunk
& I’m
not syrup
sweet
he’s
inches
from me
can’t stop
thinking of
the dark
root
another
man’s
mouth
full of
teeth
from Pursuit
XXVII
I hold the wheel
car mounts
the highway &
the pines alived
my body breathes
its soft breath
clouds unfurl a
hole
the size of
a tear
tiny polyp
of sun
each white line glints &
the shoulder roadkill
not bloody peaceful
small body of a possum asleep
I rub the
hard
rock
of clarity
& choose be alive
From the Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey, Dillon Clark (he/they) is a Queer poet living in Tucson, Arizona. They are Managing Editor at Sonora Review, and are an MFA student at the University of Arizona.