I.) amid the weeks[ ]isolation,[
with my boys: hurtling[
]downhill[
creek water, the younger in pursuit of the older—[
]the older who knows[
]he must be
caught,[ ]a defense
]
]
graceful[ ]all the starkness[
]reflecting[
sun[ ]a contrast[ ]ungreen
]coming into leaf.[
all day[ ]the boys indoors,[ ]on letters and
numbers[ ]late afternoon[ ]behind the
]fence, we’ll throw a soft-hearted baseball[
]build forts in the friable leftovers of last summer’s
sandbox, late afternoon when the sun will slant into our hillside
windows at its usual acute angles[
]i have not told them how[
many are dead[ ]when the older asked[
]faster than they should down the gorge[
]over time, into the bedrock marble.[
]the end of our walk,[
]i stop before i reach them and watch[
]under an arch, dogleg right, and flow[
]i’ve seen where this creek spills[
]just north of the station[
]how it wends from here to there, i’m not certain, and
today i wonder if[
]
A 2023 NYSCA/NYFA Artist Fellow in Poetry, Iain Haley Pollock is the author of three poetry collections, Spit Back a Boy (2011), Ghost, Like a Place (2018), and the forthcoming All the Possible Bodies (Alice James, September 2025). He directs the MFA Program in Creative Writing at Manhattanville College in Purchase, New York.