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Zach Savich

We go to the cinema merely / for the light

Poem After Last Night (1)

A ladder built into the exterior of a truck,
all anything does is confide, every morning

beginning now, decency its own kind
of constitution, each step onto a balcony or

from a cafe with little outdoor seating,
not counting the city. "What year

is that from," the mother says. "First century
A.D.," says her son. "But that's a hundred


Poem After Last Night (2)

We proceed by pattern and anomaly, had
no money but lived above a bakery

and a florist, just-aged flowers free
in a trough. I liked how you called the street

I always take "the secret way," two fingers
held to a passing dog.

Poem After Last Night (3)

We go to the cinema merely
for the light, view of alleys

from a balcony, to be in
the world and it is mythic:

zinnia market in the church yard,
onions in mesh, daylit moon

a watermark on foreign currency

Zach Savich's first book, Full Catastrophe Living, won the Iowa Poetry Prize. His second collection, Annulments, which these poems are from, won the Colorado Prize for Poetry and will be published in November 2010.