I was still but tried, in a burst it’s all lit up by.
In the quiet permission

I took my unit of heart and wondered if it was enough.
Can’t in cannot, the backwater was canceled

So a quiet commercial
Could play inside instead. An artifact

Gathered and became immobile, and even so
Changed year to year until its recognition fell to wind itself.

I felt myself. I felt myself inhabiting it so I felt myself. In everything
To see a circular tape, again and

Again I see it, determining the summer was suddenness
Netting how images can melt, can melt

the video lengthening some dream
Because exhaust is unmanageable and so released. I push in the tape,

Iridescent and wet. I’m soggy and failing at no end in sight
And just figures on their way, where are they going,

What is their position. Let me place you inside the deer
To keep you warm.

You can read two more poems by Sara Gilmore, “Mad as only an angel can be” and “Knowing constraint” in the new Fall issue of The Paris Review, no. 249. You can also read Gilmore’s thoughts on writing “Safe camp” here on the Daily. 

Sara Gilmore is a poet and translator. She teaches at the University of Iowa and works as a phlebotomist.