about the author

Davy Knittle is the author of the chapbooks empathy for cars/force of july (Horse Less Press, 2016) and cyclorama (The Operating System, 2015). His poems and reviews have appeared in Fence, The Brooklyn Rail, Pinwheel, and Forklift, Ohio. His collaborations with Sophia Dahlin have appeared recently in Eleven Eleven. He lives in Philadelphia.

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Three Poems 

Davy Knittle

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[forest march]

In New Mexico we got so used
to eating meat that breakfast
without it was a letdown
this tipped me over

if my father removed
a sofa tag he would file it under
“sofa tag”—you love all this
but work differently

for me our work follows
the cycles I know from
him—I work at chilling
my work is desire taken over

by home taken over by reach
taken over by fast cars by
corned beef on rye by
mom taken by Velveeta

by long pants long days swimming
new friend taken by mom being sick
taken over by your
mouth face hips lover’s hands

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[march of grace to be various]

day comes at all perches
meets me falconless—I’m a swimmer
day where we are—an ocean
one of a swimming kind

swimming rhymes somewhere with
sequence—birds of my neighborhood
hold up my want to fuck
in a prefab bathroom but you don’t

school among the logical grid
risen in us—a theater
of how we make homes
in accidents—you in me

in here with everyone trying
to sleep and then do their job
our song made up
across the dollar—beyond its range

I’ll remember you to full sun
rooms bathe or vanish in you
melonspoons want you—gold air
you’re over your swimmer’s edge

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[march for july]

I hold my palm in bed—watch
buses till I never see one
come alert to here—my sleep
is a kind of basement

in the restaurant I was baseball
I was there—I sat not half
in the room—don’t do it
baby—I couldn’t

scent therapy gets me on the train
at home—on your first
Chicago subway—20 stops
through the loop—this morning

on the red line everyone’s face
was telling me—why can’t you
sit down when I hover
like the day answers its feels

I stand in live music
act you out in the arcade
back of the hand—back of the bus
I debated—never did

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