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Man chainsawing a tree

Two Poems by Daniel Lassell

On Labor

for my son
 

B., do you remember the crane
that raised up that worker

to tie a rope to a tree,
then how he took a chainsaw to it?

The branches shook apart.
The workers shoved the tree

into a woodchipper.
And you mimicked the sound

all afternoon.
At night I read you a story

about electricity.
How it is pulled from earth,

so many coal workers
beneath ground tearing it apart.

The illustrations were horrific
and yet,

I read you that story anyway.
B., light in the world

doesn’t mean taking light from
somewhere else.

Remember the earth like a prism:
light in and more out.

This is how shadows work.
They cover and cover.

 

 

Temple of Salt

an erasure of Genesis 4:15-5:29
 

finding god began
in likeness

               his name
               all the
               days lived
                                           lived after

                                                                       all the
                                                                       days lived
                                                                       and died
                                                                                                    all the
                                                                                                    days

               all the
               days his
               name

   

   

   

Daniel LassellDaniel Lassell is the author of Spit, winner of the 2020 Wheelbarrow Books Emerging Poetry Prize selected by Gabrielle Calvocoressi, as well as a chapbook, Ad Spot. His poems have appeared in the Colorado Review, Cherry Tree, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. He grew up in Kentucky, where he raised llamas and alpacas.

Header photo by Natee K Jindakum, courtesy Shutterstock.