“A Zoology of Reflected Things” by James Grinwis

Ophidian: of, relating to,
or resembling snakes.
Focus: she is saying something
important about snakes.
She is telling you things
are exactly how they seem,
there are no strange invaders
in the shed. I focus on the shed.
The oval door sunning itself.
Punchball is playing tennis
with your fist. It’s snowing.
She’s chewing the scenery
to make it work. To be
somebody. To enter the hut
of the grandiloquent snow-beast
and make gestures of importance.
Pitch it. Open the eyes
to everything.
Spin around, nimble
blue monkey. Nutation: the act
of nodding the head. She opens
the fridge and a thing
wobbles outside of her vision
and hangs there.
I’m in the field
holding a frond and waving it.
The soft contemplation
of the woman weighing gold.
A jacquard is a nifty
kind of loom. An assembly of basenjis
flows through deep-faced night.
Not like me, of the hard time
focusing. Seems to be
a quick thing somewhere else.

James Grinwis is the author of two books of poetry, The City from Nome and Exhibit of Forking Paths. He co-edits the lit journal and chapbook press bateau.

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