Accuracy of Observation
Summer is a navigation of costs.
Heat and light, asphalt hemmed by browning grass.
Wine too cold, too sweet, suppliant corkscrew
fitted so quick to the hand. Hardly present,
a race from now into a gnawing then,
abstraction stretched tight across evenings of
air and smoke. How can I say I love neon,
and rows of lights gleaming at me from
a Midway thrown up close alongside
the highway in summer, because even
in summer the days are not bright enough
or long enough - but it is evening now,
not night, and there is still light enough
to pick out the gold and the silver
in your hair, and you understand when
I try to say plainly what I love.
Daniel M. Ford is a native of Baltimore. He received an MFA in poetry from George Mason University in 2008, an teaches in rural northeastern Maryland. His work has also appeared in Phoebe, The Floorboard Review, and Ginger Piglet.