Grant Hackett

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Three Fragments

seedling of an exhausted species, whose language can i speak?
word is wind. and sky, windless.
leaves give tongue until their skin burns green.

***

one by one by one by one. men pass buckets.
the hand counts its fingers. the ocean inventories sand.
nights leave without a dream. suns reappear.

***

kneels to drink. drink your face from the wind.
those waters where absence is kept. deserves the dust
and ashes of your bed. whose night is full of holes.

Grant Hackett is a retired book indexer living in western Massachusetts. Author of short poems. Some previous publications include Heliosparrow, Right Hand Pointing, tiny wren lit, SurVision, and The Inflectionist Review.