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Chad Davidson

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Chad Davidson
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Chad Davidson is the author of From the Fire Hills (Southern Illinois University Press, 2014), The Last Predicta (Southern Illinois University Press, 2008), and Consolation Miracle (Southern Illinois University Press, 2003), and the coauthor, with John Poch, of Hockey Haiku: The Essential Collection (St. Martin’s Press, 2006). He teaches at the University of West Georgia and lives in Carrollton, Georgia.

by this poet

They know that death is merely of the body
not the species, know that their putrid chitin
is always memorable. We call them ugly
with their blackened exoskeletons,
their wall-crawlings as we paw at them.
Extreme adaptability, we say.
And where there’s one there’s probably a million
more who lie and laugh
It’s the consistency of flesh that drives us,
how a pome ascends the stairs
of its origin. A boy shakes

pears down off the higher branches
as his friends scavenge underneath,
groping for the thing necks.

If you find yourself holding one,
hungry, if that’s the word,
then you are testament

to what festers in
The burner and the blackout crave you: pilot
of heat, purveyor of the innocent
candle and cigarette, light we tamed
then fed to the night. Cupped, inviolate,
a winter moth, a prayer we never sent
away, you live in seconds what we name
a life, a sudden cleansing. You Prometheus
come as toothpick, the false fire