She said The open air grown labyrinthine  

if I exit from this side gate,  

leftover containers and gulls  

overall clouds  

There could’ve been an ocean anywhere, that’s  

the kind of weathered  

these hours are He said And the motions in the heads of small birds  

not looking or to hunt, but  

architectural

*

Zach Savich is the author of three books of poetry, including The Firestorm, and a book of prose, Events Film Cannot Withstand. He teaches at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia.