Echoed
The song lasts forever & I am
the dead flowers on your windowsill.
The earth consists
of effort—erosion to escape
your watering schedule
in an Excel file. I am draped in gossamer
listening to your garden keen. It rains
the entirety of this poem.
Yesterday morning you hear
the droplets collected
into garden puddles & wonder in which
tense the tortoise skin peels.
Watched it crawl past the sundial,
birdbath—the subtle trudge of everything.
Sam Campbell grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and has since fled to The Last Frontier for whatever reason. A Best of the Net nominee, his work appears or is forthcoming in DIAGRAM, The Bombay Gin, Red Earth Review, and Hoxie Gorge Review, among others. He holds an MFA from Boise State University and is an Assistant Professor of English at Prince William Sound College in Valdez, Alaska.