When we erase, we become clearer
\nand maybe it\u2019s enough
\nto let days degrade, to set fire<\/p>\n
to dark and its long-sinning
\ndreams. This morning, the sun walks
\nthrough the living<\/p>\n
room window, already wearing
\na willful fullness, and I stand as a lizard
\ndrags a katydid <\/p>\n
across my garden path. The world is under
\nattack and I never take photos
\nof the critical moments, the ones that keep me <\/p>\n
westerly, thistled, without
\ncriticism. The news keeps collecting
\nits pursuits, and all the hope remains <\/p>\n
in silhouette. By noon a development
\nat the end of the road
\nis ornate with unyielding<\/p>\n
hammering. Above, a copter shakes
\nthe air to outcomes, and cloud-skeins
\nform, long <\/p>\n
as the fissures in mountains. Sometimes we halt
\nto the sequence between tolerance
\nand guilt, to the nests <\/p>\n
and not the walls. Hundreds
\nof ants turn circles
\non the steps from the door<\/p>\n
down the hill. Nothing else moves
\nand then the trees. When later I listen
\nto the police chief <\/p>\n
reveal that his force
\nis told to \u201cshoot center mass,\u201d not aim
\nfor shoulders, I breathe <\/p>\n
into my palm, inside
\nmyself. The skin of an image. One in power
\nasks runaways<\/p>\n
why?<\/em> And I pretend there are pearls good happens with the flesh and plural miracles from the cacti of the pastoral, the barbs When we erase, we become clearer and maybe it\u2019s enough to let days degrade, to set fire to dark and its long-sinning dreams. This morning, the sun walks through the living room window, already wearing a willful fullness, and I stand as a lizard drags a katydid across my garden path. The world is under […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":647,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[52,1],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-3xW","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13636"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/647"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13636"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13636\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13637,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13636\/revisions\/13637"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13636"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13636"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13636"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nto the future,
\nthat no one is dying today. We all see everything<\/p>\n
\nof tongue that knows sweet,
\nso we must wrack the rough pauses <\/p>\n
\nends. I notice again the sharp shave
\non my husband. I\u2019ve been stealing <\/p>\n
\nto annihilate every other want. How unremarkable
\nlife is: the dry reach<\/p>\n
\nbelow a few straps
\nof owls shaping a constellation.<\/p>\nLauren Camp<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"