Embedded Files
From IMPRESSIONS
1. perspective
preferences forced by perspective
the ambient and the immanent
child says he sings better
when his eyes are closed
dragged out into the street
by a deep whole-body wail
unclear at first it’s coming
from the woman or baby
she holds in her arms
rip in the day’s fabric
“mi primo” she says when
they ask for her name
the vans have already gone
in the sports facility girls
pulling oars on rowing machines
one after another in rhythm
steady and smooth as if
they have a long way to go
2. snowfall
emmylou’s voice a tangle of
dark hair scattered ashes beside
unmade bed in deep winter
somewhere there must be fire
driver’s side window smashed out
woman left bleeding on road
that was in salem oregon
here it is still winter
the boy eats my chips
wants to show me the lego
construction he’s made for mama’s
birthday the snowfall a living thing
3. outer space
we’ve lost the ability to
get out of it ourselves
boy imposing years-long penalty
forbidding me to eat sweets
it becomes heroic just to
sit watching the squiggly lines
waiting for messages to appear
boy banishes me to outer
space as we walk in park
it becomes heroic to know
how to ask anyone
or anything for help
4. machine
the machinery is easy to run
just slide this in here
push that orange button and
watch as it comes out
I wish he said they’d
make all master keys the same
she said but they can’t
there has to be a
very slight difference in grooves
so some locks open while
others don’t ahhhhh that makes
sense he said in that
moment they both understood something
they never would so well again
6. human
the sound of keys opening
mailbox then locking it
shut again
abbreviated barking of dog
maybe a block away implies
proximity of its human
nothing seems to be moving
but heave of delivery truck
pulling up at the curb
driver carries bundle to house
under it all over it all
a thin soft hiss of
leaves chatter of birds huge
moan of plane passing by
7. touch
a woman sitting by herself
gets up to throw something
away but is unable to
find a trash can while
some people sitting together talk
about everything they’ve ever lost
bus tickets coffee mugs water
bottles sunglasses math equations whole
periods in their lives I
feel a free-floating anxiety
not what am I missing
but anticipation of unexpected touch
David Hadbawnik is a poet, translator, medieval scholar, and an editor, with Chris Vitiello, of Polis Press. Books include Damage, forthcoming from Knife Fork Book (2026); a translation of the Aeneid (Shearsman, 2023); an edited volume, Postmodern Poetry and Queer Medievalisms (Medieval Institute Publications, 2022); and Holy Sonnets to Orpheus and Other Poems (Delete Press, 2018). He currently lives in the Minneapolis area with his wife and son.
Copyright © 2026 by David Hadbawnik, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.
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