Today's poem is by Carl Phillips

Pulling the Arrow Out

Mumbling something about how
transcedence, in particular,
at first takes flight, they all three
          looked elsewhere, pretty much
in unison, as if to my face
a brightness not easily
withstood, or as if into whatever's
          the distance between luck
when it turns merely, and
luck falling clean away . . . I've swum
that field: courtesy,
          intimacy—what's left
not to know? One cloud must
pass eventually, from beneath the other.

Copyright © 2014 Carl Phillips All rights reserved
from Iron Horse Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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