Matthew Brady Klitsch
One A.M. Fox
From the woods, I hear her voice. She wants me
to send back names into the forest—correctly say
what the constellations of leaves are called.
But I’m tired of giving already. Since it means nothing.
Whether we ask to be saved or not is hardly the point.
Are you asleep?
Each wail she lets go I hear, and wear like a scarf.