Endi Bogue Hartigan


/the cuckoo more a plug in time, a jab, proclaiming itself at half-hour intervals

/more a clothespin than a bird, a notch of wood dipped
in yellow yelling melodic chime
/more a punctuating clothespin, more insertion and emotion

/more a temporal voting season, a proclamation, claiming
midweek love or fiscal haunt or sunrise leak
and seeing the gears through every and each alarm

/more a cuckoo than a thought, more a tree line than a gear

/more an approximation of myself, pronoun-making, minute-staking
/more a filament of the melodic cuckoo-ticking earth

/here the ever-clock of clothespins /chime of when
we were healthier, when we were perched
like birds on a Monterey pier, when we heard of the towers,
chime of when we were not astir

/over and over the local crimes and chimes, when
terror was less a word
/oh clock o’clock oh children of clothespins

/when they were five they would run to the cuckoo chime
whatever they were doing, scramble up the couch to see its yellow notch emerge

/more the song and unsung minutes /more when and when 
so porous it hurts

/more cost of porousness /the scent of loss in certain T-shirts

/more I am the cuckoo bird retreating claiming two notes only I or we
true or here five-year or forever escapement or gear

/back to the impossible filament of self we thought we were rid of it but
then the alarm the alarm the daily lever and who
wakes beside whose ears here in this Tuesday far from never

ENDI BOGUE HARTIGAN is a poet based in Portland, Oregon, and author of two books of poetry including Pool [5 choruses] (Omnidawn Open Prize, 2014) and One Sun Storm (Center for Literary Publishing, 2008), winner of the Colorado Prize. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Chicago Review, Denver Quarterly, New American Writing, and Volt, as well as in collaborative projects with Northwest writers and artists. The poems here are from a new manuscript exploring clocks and time.

Issue Six
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