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Column 694

Listen to the Deer Tick Sing

Intro by Ted Kooser
07.08.2018

I live in Nebras­ka, out in the coun­try where sum­mers have two sea­sons, ticks and chig­gers, and both the ticks and chig­gers like noth­ing bet­ter than a sip of me. So how could I resist see­ing what a tick might have to say for itself? Here’s a poem by Jim Zim­mer­man, who lives in Pleas­antville, New York, which when the ticks are hun­gry may not be so Pleas­antville. His most recent book of poems is Fam­i­ly Cook­out (The Com­stock Review).

Listen to the Deer Tick Sing

I wait for you to come
to brush your shoe against
the blade of grass I'm sitting on
touch me with your hand
as you reach for one last
violet to take home
 
or pick up a worm to place
gracefully in the garden
 
even better if you lie
on a hillside to watch the sunset
or breathe in stars
 
I will feel your warmth, bury
my head next to that freckle
on your calf, that hair
on your forearm, or just behind
the lobe of your left ear
 
I promise not to take too much
blood into my swelling body
 
only what I think I need
 
and I will never
let you know I am here
though I will love you
 
deeply
 
 

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Disclaimer

We do not accept unsolicited submissions

We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2017 by James K. Zimmerman, "Listen to the Deer Tick Sing." Poem reprinted by permission of James K. Zimmerman. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.