Think of night as controlled prairie fire, and it becomes an imperative

Poetry

The star spore
got sorted into sori
by the people
on the far shore
who saw them press
themselves against
the wrong side
of the fern in distinct
patterns as though
prone and pushing back
the past and when they went
ripe the indusium
came away as night
began all over again

Photo courtesy of Naomi Clayton

Photo courtesy of Naomi Clayton

About the Author
Clare Jones was awarded second prize in the essay category of the 2018 Keats-Shelley Prize. She is the recipient of a grant from the Fulbright Program and an Alberta Metcalf Kelly Fellowship from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.