Fever Dream by Eric Pankey

In the clearing he is surrounded by trees.

No wind. One sound: the icy cogs

Catching as snow gathers on snow.

He imagines a bed of pine-needles

Upon which he might give in to sleep.

His hands are not cold. Each burns

As if he carried embers in his fists.

Perhaps a horse will trudge the distance,

Find him, lead him back through the trees.

Perhaps this shallow meadow was a pond once,

And where he stands he is in over his head.

He looks up, sees overhead the underside

Of a boat, slow then stall, as ice seizes its sides.

Eric Pankey
Eric Pankey

Eric Pankey is the author of twelve collections of poetry, most recently AUGURY (Milkweed Editions 2017). He is Professor of English and The Heritage Chair in Writing at George Mason University.