pile of timber logs on grass

Poetry No. 93 – Shin Watanabe


by Shin Watanabe

I found a job in the mountains where
rabbits shoot out from mounds of snow

in the woods some ways out I watch
menless saws dig their teeth into pine
buzz to each other words written on the trees’ skin

E says it must mean something or else I wouldn’t write it down 
and just cause something’s true doesn’t mean there’s a point in saying it
yeah my sweater’s blue, with a red man pointing at the sun
yeah, there’s a guy over in the lumberyard gone and stole all the pouches of sugar
we call him Sugar… something

on the lake we skip stones
it’s frozen, the stones chip the ice and slide
I say it counts as two, at least

E quits his job at the lumberyard 
it’s winter and he does not need two jobs
I, maddened by this newfound loneliness, swing at his head
he is much faster than I and dodges easily
he does not care much and goes on eating
chunks from his rabbit stew

the other day I watched a truck stuck in slush
yelled everything is scissors
and sure enough everything was scissors
though unintentionally so

on a moon-needle’s day
E and I build a stone-skipping machine
watch its spring coil and tense
the stone are slick with a love for illness
its current record is sixty two

Shin Watanabe was born in Gainesville, Florida and has lived in New York, New Jersey, Minnesota, and Nevada. He studied philosophy at the University of Minnesota and received an MFA in poetry at the University of Las Vegas. Shin is currently a PhD candidate in English with a creative dissertation in poetry at Binghamton University. His poetry has appeared previously in the Colorado Review, I-70 review, and others.

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