Two Poems by Zach Savich
For All We Know
For all we know, all it takes nothing to endure
is all that will endure. I write you from the afterlife.
Behind my eyes are the long stones that keep
a field unplanted, so the fertile top’s pristine.
I say pleasure.
I say escalate.
Knowing little but faithful to the little green even dew sets off.
I keep a mirror in one palm to read the other.
The Most Again
Real astonishment not the error
for the chir of coming bikes
and we moved aside but the distance
error is the initial
understanding of In months we’ll throw
rocks to break the ice just wide enough
to set one bottle in
and wait for spring I love imagining
the well-dressed woman who spends her days
in the tapered light
beneath the overpass unstoppering
a bottle opaque from steam released
by the tempered wood peering within
to find not a message but
a minute ship inside
About the Author:
Zach Savich is the author of three collections of poetry, including The Firestorm, which won the 2010 Cleveland State University Poetry Center’s Open Competition, and a collection of prose, Events Film Cannot Withstand. His latest poetry collection, Century-Swept Brutal, is forthcoming from Black Ocean Press. Savich currently teaches at Shippensburg University and serves as an editor with The Kenyon Review.