Poems by Hannah Rogers

—

CONIUM

The coverings of hemlocks,
woolly adelgid, afraid only
of water, survival is a moat
around each tree.

Orange and low phantoms
meant for stalking, your mushroom
prints laid out in kitchens,
the glue absorbing the spores.

A moat around the crawfish castle,
the holes we dug to float
a boat parade on Christmas,
and blueberries crossed with wild.

—

THE NOZZLE

We come here to understand
and stand under the presence.

I want to know
what stars are to whales.

Inaugural love,

my genius,
my brother,

the shower is readied
by tangerines—

a flood of limes
awaits you,

inarguable love.

—

FELLMONGER

A frozen woolly sumac
parts the white prints.
The habit of freezing November,
the slowing of the year.
The magpies are swooping
cover your children’s eyes.

—

TWO CATS OF BENI HASAN

We are waiting and looking at the porch ceiling
and talking thousand year old Egyptian honeycakes
and whether they would still taste good
and if I will bury you with one, and whether
we should get up and make one in advance.

—

BYRONIC HERO

Why have you chosen
this moment to dry up
the tiger milk,
leaving only belief
in the suffering self,
in the eaveless house,
so that the water runs
straight down.

—

 Hannah Star Rogers grew up in rural Alabama and received her Ph.D. at Cornell University. She teaches at Columbia University and the University of Virginia. She has received the Acadia National Park Service writing residency and is currently working on a manuscript, Luck with Animals.