The One Naked in Bain Playground

In one hour
I cleave a piece of

siren and burgle
the best in you.  I paint

a robin in borrowed
chalk white.

When we sound
rough glaciers

back home
I am given the

car alarm you mark
sleep by.  You

are a lockbox in my
arms but I touch

only glass and light.


The One in an Empty Pack of Stuyvesants

A deer slowly dying
is all
I can listen to.

Stagger, stumble
in the lit patch.

What else
on this Earth can
carry a tune?


The One in a Fashion Warehouse

In omission, we stretch
and are not made
a memory.

The stringís just a trap
or a declaration
in our guts.

For what is asked of me
I canít get
high enough.

Whatever else
is bled
is not to sing.

______________________________________

Tyler Smith was born and raised in Rochester, NY. His poems have appeared in Everyday Genius, Jellyfish, and elsewhere.  His chapbook, The Go-Go Playlist, is forthcoming from Burning River Press. He lives in the Bay Area and plays bass full-time in the band Polar Bear Club.