The Box

Aperture, aperture
like a cane to light

Steady it closer to the real I like:

Body of water
in the vein of an eddy

Whip the object into looking right

Grieving grieving day for night


The World

Scrape life off the world’s shoe

Drag life through the world’s streets

Run life on the world’s money

Feed life to the world’s dogs

Stick life with the world’s pin

Fold life like the world’s paper

Keep life from the world’s house

Throw life in the world’s rain


Story

He seemed to want to speak, so we bent down and opened his mouth. There was a distant rumble, it grew closer and closer, louder and quicker, until out came an egg, a speckled brown egg. Then a moment later, a turnip with its greens. A moment later, a steak landed with a thud. Then, a scoop of pickled cabbage. Then, a healthy pat of ghee. It was all cold, as though refrigerated, and stiff, as though dry, as if left out in the night. Some seconds passed, nothing else came, so we closed the mouth, steadied ourselves, turned and continued our march down the road.


The Hole

When we first found the hole
we could smell it

but standing there staring
the scent disappeared

The longer we looked
the more shallow the hole grew

bottom coming into view

We sunk with the perimeter
and the air came along

having fled but refreshed
now flew through observation

cubic liters culminating
stress-particles making hay

and smelling became a story
that made sense but lessened

its impact on the level
earth over time


Morgan Võ is a poet and librarian, and author of The Selkie (The Song Cave, 2024).