Alec Hershman

Now we know what he meant by lacquer
the bark of the finest birch proposes,
shining off a storm.
Like bit players with their single lines,
the trees call out to her. Their lofty stage whispers
are contemptible, are not to be acknowledged,
all the way to work.

At the courthouse, the jurors adjourn for lunch,
their name tags flipping on the windy steps.
Their talk is light,
and scatters like kibble.
She shuts a nostril to the steam
that rises from a grate.
It is courtroom air, quiet and exact
that follows her down hallways
to the office where she types. At her knee,
a chill no larger than a leaf hovers.
Everything chattering
for transcription, lifting at the chance
to be immortal. She thinks, one at a time,
please — then rolls her chair
tight against the desk, and wishes
for something unwavering,
like courtesy.

ALEC HERSHMAN is the author of The Egg Goes Under (Seven Kitchens Press, 2017). He has received awards from the KHN Center for the Arts, The Jentel Foundation, Playa, The Virginia Creative Center for the Arts, and The Institute for Sustainable Living, Art, and Natural Design. He lives in Michigan where he teaches writing and literature to college students. You can learn more at alechershmanpoetry.com.