Andrew Collard
Cicada Song
O the dog days the vertigo of earth the sap the night the tyranny of jays
the mantises the years I passed in darkness to elude them winters
languishing above my head O how many lives behind me now the husk
the bumbling climb the crater the holes we leave the city of tubers
subterranean the sickened leaves the helicopters O forgotten
weeks my father sang above the world of men trimmed branches
power cables sandbox song descending to the empires of brick and mortar
the side-yard the hose the child demanding gulps the water
puddling in the grass around the halo of his muddy shoe O harmony
the saw mower symphony of crickets the percussive thudding
excavator dump truck traffic whispering of the freeway love O
can you hear me I am calling you between the branches
the primordial maple the wellspring bark the arm I sprang from O
the fall the sudden stop the cushion of the world beneath me O
the burrow and the boy who keeps watch from his window O those years
the whole earth held me the crusted husk the body I discarded
the frame I couldn’t recognize still clinging to the rotting deck
the old life crouched and pleading to remain erect to mother me O
the blanket I would draw over the houses the ants the daddy longlegs
wobbling in the dew the rain the hose the shouting children O
to tuck them in my love O can you hear me heavy magic of the wing the sap
the chorus of the trees the wild vibration echo chamber of my chest
the notes dispatched into the heat the rushing water siren box-fan static
of the radio the womb my love the space between the trees the sky that cries
ascend ascend and all to find you darling all to know I won’t return
Andrew Collard lives in Kalamazoo, MI, where he attends grad school and teaches. His recent poems can be found in Ploughshares, Crab Orchard Review, and Crazyhorse.
Return to January 2019 Edition
O the dog days the vertigo of earth the sap the night the tyranny of jays
the mantises the years I passed in darkness to elude them winters
languishing above my head O how many lives behind me now the husk
the bumbling climb the crater the holes we leave the city of tubers
subterranean the sickened leaves the helicopters O forgotten
weeks my father sang above the world of men trimmed branches
power cables sandbox song descending to the empires of brick and mortar
the side-yard the hose the child demanding gulps the water
puddling in the grass around the halo of his muddy shoe O harmony
the saw mower symphony of crickets the percussive thudding
excavator dump truck traffic whispering of the freeway love O
can you hear me I am calling you between the branches
the primordial maple the wellspring bark the arm I sprang from O
the fall the sudden stop the cushion of the world beneath me O
the burrow and the boy who keeps watch from his window O those years
the whole earth held me the crusted husk the body I discarded
the frame I couldn’t recognize still clinging to the rotting deck
the old life crouched and pleading to remain erect to mother me O
the blanket I would draw over the houses the ants the daddy longlegs
wobbling in the dew the rain the hose the shouting children O
to tuck them in my love O can you hear me heavy magic of the wing the sap
the chorus of the trees the wild vibration echo chamber of my chest
the notes dispatched into the heat the rushing water siren box-fan static
of the radio the womb my love the space between the trees the sky that cries
ascend ascend and all to find you darling all to know I won’t return
Andrew Collard lives in Kalamazoo, MI, where he attends grad school and teaches. His recent poems can be found in Ploughshares, Crab Orchard Review, and Crazyhorse.
Return to January 2019 Edition