The sky whales sulk in, singing rain.
Woodpeckers rally for something alive
in the lifting
clapboard of the sinking house.
A human bruises a hammer
arrhythmically into the wood
beside the nail. We are measuring
more hours of daylight, and our bodies
stretch like spring bears.
What change
might we shrug off this time.
Shane Murphy left an MFA program early to work at a small press. He now teaches Spanish and writes music and poetry. He lives in Poughkeepsie, NY, with his wife and two sons. Recent poems appear in OxMag, The Argyle, and Midway Journal.
