Miranda Along The Jetty
by Joshua Davis
Stars cork the dark. I yank the corks, one by one: blood and milk, blood and milk. Mares climb out of the foam, their manes smooth as ink. When I touch them, they reel. The wave glint, the grit. Gull cry, cinder light, a constellation of sand fleas, a woman whose skin is the color of mine in summer. The woman's mouth traces shapes I don't know. She cuts a lock of her own hair. The lock twists and lengthens, rooting into the earth. Leaf-saddled branches stretch wide and high, so I climb. I could pluck the moon and carry home that bright fruit.
Joshua Davis lives and writes in Oxford, Mississippi. Asked his opinion of the outcome of a quite specific prize fight, he replies, "In a poetry cage-match between Shakespeare and Sappho, Sappho would win. Shakespeare wouldn't even be able to look Sappho in the eye, let alone beat her in a fight."
Back to Table of Contents