Dillon J. Welch

On Preserving

1.

I am by way of spangled blood, rickshaw

bones, soul in a heaving I cannot

promote. Countless variables in the turning

of sheets, split lip, jealousy mounting

the sill like a plant. We cannot

but can the quartered peaches

on a Tuesday, the week of no

significance.

2.

There is something beautiful in the cosmic

freezing. Janice with an eye for borrowed

fashion. She, twirling, feathered

and beaming—me, be it morning

or Wednesday, alone

in the basement filling

jars with syrup.

3.

In the days of various and impenetrable

yawns, we are sightless. We are mouthing

loose ends by way of loss. By way of leaving

different months in locked drawers. May has

come and left, countless in its exhaustion; I am

all but pressed clean. She is flowering

now, magnificent, a terrycloth hanging

from the door to the wash.

Bio

Dillon J. Welch is a writer from Southern New Hampshire. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in CutBank, ILK, Jellyfish,PANK, Switchback and other journals. He is currently Editor for AMRI and Poetry Editor for Swarm. Find him at: www.dillonjwelch.com