A Jack Russell spins
to find a spot to rest.
A circle replaced by a circle.
The kind of birth that
shrugs off nothingness.
I step outside the bank
and find a quarter. An infinity
before and after the patch
of yellowish dirt I camp in
and surround. I paint a window
like a drop of liquor. Opaque.
Which makes it real.
Daniel Moysaenko holds an MFA from the University of Massachusetts Amherst and is the author of the chapbook New Animal (H_NGM_N Books, 2015). Other work has appeared in Columbia Poetry Review, Mid-American Review, Oversound, Pleiades, Rain Taxi, and The Volta. He is pursuing a poetry PhD at Florida State University.