← v14n2, Fall 2015
Poetry · Volume 14, Number 2

[How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder]

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How on earth did it happen, I used to wonder:

neon poppy cropping up in an ashen field—

bright icon as foil to the blues’ coming hunger,

the brain’s ancient machinery cranking its wheel.

Nothing works harder than the heavy cog

of this world. What makes the gears surge and the

chains pull long after the skin unclicks and logs

out has little to do with you or me

or myths or politicians. Seasons surge

through us like the rotation of a blues

chorus, something electric emerges

from the circuit—a spark, a spool of light,

a petal of liquid fire, a god’s fuse,

a president’s fane, the voltage of this night—