Christopher Nelson


Night comes first to the innermost
branches of the elm, then hedgerows, then entire lawns.

My neighbor gets ready for bed, her one lit window and the red pulse

of a radio tower above the bay. Our backyards are small
and touch each other along one side.

* * *

Poem previously published in Best New Poets 2012. Reprinted
with the permission of the author. All Rights Reserved.


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