Down in the Bottom
I had gone there to meet you like you asked. Where everything seemed sprouted from the mud. The post oak leaves, dead three autumns, with beetles lapping each lobed curve. The lichen- coated branches, hollowed by ants—all the things that remindedus that there are more than seventeen shades of brown: not just buffed leather, burnt umber, russet, but also horse, winter magnolia, night iris, skin. And when I thought of you— darkness dropping slowly down from the trees—when I thought ofyou, I saw them all, streaming warmly by like that great Muddy River. searching the hollows for our old spot the sphinx moth
Professional editor J. Todd Hawkins writes and lives in Texas. Todd’s poetry has recently appeared in AGNI, Parcel, The Louisville Review, Bayou Magazine, Sakura Review, and American Literary Review. He is the author of the chapbook Ten Counties Away (Finishing Line Press, 2017) and is currently working on a follow-up collection of Mississippi Delta-inspired haibun. He holds an MA in technical communication, loves the blues, and nightly loses to his wife at Mortal Kombat while the kids sleep.