Our Second

one thing constantly / enters another, becoming not one with it

Poet Jana Prikryl

A closed current
as small as a necklace
this water. Looking down at the pebble beach
from a window as tall as story. They’d done the tests
and only later I thought, nobody said
looks good. I don’t mind losing the baby
our second, just interfere with the first.
But I was big and worried for myself. Pain or danger
and didn’t want to see its face — I see it already —
made wrong by virus. Down there the pebble beach
our friends, comparing their finds, worried I’d solve this
the easy way, unaware one thing constantly
enters another, becoming not one with it
but taking its place, and on and on, a current

Jana Prikryl
Jana Prikryl's third book of poems, Midwood, will be published this summer. The recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship, Prikryl is an editor at The New York Review of Books.

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