July 8, 2025

harvest **

Did you know a haiku can win a battle better than flamethrowers?
How sometimes, a gift is five minutes more of your time? I know,
it can feel like we’re living in the seventh century, like three days
is an eternity, that our next steps rest on chance. We could make a contest
of our predictions, and still the wolves that live inside of us
could turn everything to twisted metal, or salt, or a jail sentence.
But at night, while we wrestle with fossils, the cicadas click signals
between branches. A deer steps briefly out of the woods. In the morning,
the stalks stripped clean. You could fume over your lost harvest.
You could forgive the animal her hunger.

** Above is a stitched poem I pieced together from the following number-related subject lines (listed below) of emails I’ve received:

One more chance
The two wolves that live inside of me
Three days left to make your gift
Four more haiku
Do you have five minutes?
Six steps to becoming a fossil
The seventh-century battle won with flamethrowers
My eight predictions
Nine surprising things worth more than this twisted metal
Ten unrelated sentences
Contest for poets in the eleventh grade
Twelve thousand pounds of salt
Thirteen-year cicada