Rasp of fingernail against the cold clasp of ice upon a gas tank door—
been broke often enough to give thanks
for a couple bucks for the tank, even this early in the day,
predawn after a sleepless night, almost-morning in which each person is fitted
Author: Mark Wagenaar
Mark Wagenaar is the author of three award-winning poetry collections, including the Saltman Prize-winning Southern Tongues Leave Us Shining. His fiction and poetry appear widely, including The New Yorker, Tin House, The Southern Review, Gulf Coast, Cincinnati Review, and River Styx, among many others. He is presently an assistant professor at Valparaiso University.
Plumb Line
“The shrine may become so important that the idea
it stands for is consigned to oblivion.”
………………………………………………—Abraham Joshua Heschel
The plumber’s flashlight shines on the meniscus
of water atop the drain’s face, blank obsidian
to full moon in an instant, moon for a drunken
cricket to drown in. I’ve yet to count our losses
within the flooded basement, as his light
catkins water drops & stray puddles still
budded on the floor. All around us, piles
of half-soaked boxes: maternity outfits