Low Tide

My dear
Avrom, I see

no one, suddenly,
neither bitches

nor stallions.
I have no

idea how long
it will drag on.

I used to enjoy
Philip, but his allusiveness

poses a challenge.
I spoke

with Dominic
and liked him

but he is defeated.
Willful seclusion

is, I suppose,
the measure

of dirty habitsó
the little cormorant

plunge of voracious
curiosity into

a wan, gritty
anus. But lookó

the sun, forgetting
to be wretched,

has taken it
into its head

to bare its bottom
over my green eaves.


Adam Day is the recipient of a 2010 Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a 2011 PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work has appeared in the Boston Review, Lana Turner, APR, Guernica, BOMB, Denver Quarterly, AGNI, The Iowa Review, and The Kenyon Review. He also directs the Baltic Writing Residency in Latvia and Scotland.