Listen to Dan Beachy-Quick read his piece:
Be generous—. But the nettle’s bloom bitters
Its lesson deep into the thumb’s lovely
Incaution, and the rose thrown in the gutter
Still casts out its scent so sweet it’s sickly,
Almost shapely, love’s ghastly prepossession.
I hoped to die before spring came again,
Then the dung beetle made its confession.
Then the pillow kept my silhouette’s stain—.
I rose as if I never had risen—.
Be cautious—. But the letter lays bare
Those marks her own hand pressed through words
Onto the page below this page, where
White on white makes present all past, absurd
Legibility, as grief notes grief,
The colors of the sky, and the sky itself—.