Sing, Unburied, Sing

by Jesmyn Ward

“You might have it,” Mama said. “Really?” I asked. “I think it runs in the blood, like silt in river water. Builds up in bends and turns, over sunk trees.” She waved

For micheal

the country taught me things. Taught me that after the first fat flush of life, time eats away at things: it rusts

Time

Spider-bound: web-blind.

the way years would soften him to his daddy. How fat would wreathe him, and he would settle into his big frame the way a house settles into the earth underneath it. I had

What time and age do

Medusa

First book

She wakes up like that all the time, trailing the blankets of her dreams behind her. She’s still sleepy. I catch

Wonderful writer

There’s too much blank sky where a tree once stood. All

Poem

An unsettling. Deeper. It turns me awake every time I feel myself

An unsettling

“There’s so many,” Richie says. His voice is molasses slow. “So many of us,” he says. “Hitting. The wrong keys. Wandering against. The song.” He sounds tired.

Fe

a murder of silver crows. I stand until the forest

M.urder