Matthew Valades

Little Song

The good work of going back to the well,
of dipping a new bucketful. The path
between the trees, their bowing slow arms
intricate with sticks, swaying and catching.
The season of rifts that rain on you alone.
The headstones and elms, thousands of names
lost, the solemn leftover song as bright
as a copper kettle tilted on its hook.
A song rowing against the sun. A song
of ground broken open. A song of no help.
A song laughable to children and crows.
A song that waits underneath the woodpile
and only slides out at night. A song tapped
on a rail that just you, there tapping, can hear.

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Matthew Valades's poems have been published or are forthcoming in Subtropics, Carolina Quarterly, New Ohio Review, The Moth and The Pomegranate London. He has also had book reviews published in PN Review and Quarterly West.