Davy Knittle

My poems and reviews have appeared recently or are forthcoming in The Recluse, Fence, The Brooklyn Rail and Denver Quarterly. I live in Philadelphia, where I curate the City Planning Poetics series at the Kelly Writers House.


m a z e t a n


whole year going by out of car windows. small dairy. fall field. big dairy at an intersection. ice cream line on all sides but the drive-thru. revolving weathervane cow.


corn maze itch and split from dad by accident. oops. no one has ever been unhappy drinking a milkshake. Chelsea and Dan make a whisky one.


family game night the four of us. Scrabble and a water glass. locate us in couch time with the sweet two of them.


teens staying up to simulate drunkenness. wake up in my crush’s house. it’s full of emmys. cinematographer parents. shot the golden ‘90s of tv.


sixteen and doing it like dad does. cheddar on apple pizza. not swimming but looking at the pool.


fidelity to the pleasure of almost having a car accident texting her. downhill not having one, then coast home between carports recomposing the text.


1pm floss at work. handfuls of water. patterns for ascending Tuesday. into its cloud. my body likes a clock better every year. too sleepy for poets but go anyway.


Thursday reading: tell Brandon I’ve been writing him a silent letter for months and he says me too. put my smaller palm up to Jason’s.


image of my body and face mostly from what babe thinks. same blond shirt as last Saturday. wild card. could feel any number of ways.


look in mirrors like those space station scenes in Gravity. handheld camera. handsome blur Earth. maybe big in there. maybe otherwise. all wispy and tilted and blue.

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