Jordan Davis
Market Day at the Old House
Printing press in the clock,
And half-mast civilians come running
Lipsticked.
Lost like a singer I stood
In a horse car,
The clarinet is who you are.
The hanging flowers reflect on you
And the canoe you print, $1.25
Takes your uno to the sloppy model shop
When a leg’s kicked up
Like the bottom in jeans
Its transcendental mezzanine
The lightship forgot,
Lunchboxes rising
Past kelp odoramas and bigots of sleep—
The video seagulls hollering closer—
May on the piers.
Jordan Davis is a former Poetry Editor at The Nation; his poems have appeared in Poetry, American Poetry Review, and The New Yorker. His most recent collection is *Shell Game* (Edge Books, 2018).
Return to September 2020 Edition
Printing press in the clock,
And half-mast civilians come running
Lipsticked.
Lost like a singer I stood
In a horse car,
The clarinet is who you are.
The hanging flowers reflect on you
And the canoe you print, $1.25
Takes your uno to the sloppy model shop
When a leg’s kicked up
Like the bottom in jeans
Its transcendental mezzanine
The lightship forgot,
Lunchboxes rising
Past kelp odoramas and bigots of sleep—
The video seagulls hollering closer—
May on the piers.
Jordan Davis is a former Poetry Editor at The Nation; his poems have appeared in Poetry, American Poetry Review, and The New Yorker. His most recent collection is *Shell Game* (Edge Books, 2018).
Return to September 2020 Edition