Max Winter

DOWN BY THE SEA

The falling brown flower outside the window
The teased knot in the vapor over the kettle
And the glowing particles connecting these things
Make a song a register too high to hear
Though I know they are there
Do you pray we ask when it is serious
Though could you pray is perhaps the better question
As the snow talks in the yard talks to everyone must stop
The air inside this room does not change
An observation a scientist would say is not possible
But this is my daily history and it towers
As it towers it blesses me
Blesses the steamboat of whim
Noisy boat
But maybe what the day asks for
If this is in fact a day and not an incomplete sentence
In a paragraph sent by a file clerk
To signal the beginning of the great war
Where is that turning sound coming from

MAX WINTER is the author of The Pictures and Walking Among Them. He is a co-editor of the press Solid Objects and one of the poetry editors of Fence. His writing on books and film has appeared in The Boston Globe, The New York Times, No Film School, and Paste.