A Man Called After Dark
the smoke of belt burn / and nectarines and me / — I will learn to love him
a green of wild antenna fireweed and shadscale
television static his name is After Dark
with the sounds of wet alligator juniper
with the beak break of a crow cocking its head to the south
long leadplant and saltbush circuits of root and stem gnarled from the mouth
in his name — his head sky thick not yet cloud or rain
for white candles an unlocked gun box
a late evening gnat sung sweet as dark soil and wolftail
the meadow sleepgrass as he carries into his pit
and nectarines and me — I will learn to love him
through canyons like pink water
when he turns key to engine — he tells me he dances
out the open windows of train cars in temples
at the hem sown with a sunken backroad
he drives off dusts the horizon
as if sunrise as if all of it — all its beauty
Jake Skeets is the author of Eyes Bottle Dark with a Mouthful of Flowers, winner of the National Poetry Series. He is the recipient of a 92Y Discovery Prize, a Mellon Projecting All Voices Fellowship, an American Book Award, and a Whiting Award. He is from the Navajo Nation and teaches at Diné College.
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and though the odds say improbable
they ain’t superhuman. ain’t always able / to save the children the men the country or even your silk presses / but whatever they touch. somebody’s good god blesses.