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To Know Which Way the Wind Blows


Go away, harbingers of doubt,

meteorologists with your named storms,


anxiety—I don’t want you on TV.

Stop making conversation with yourself,


you alone clever enough to get your jokes.

Stop pointing at your blank green backdrop.


I’m through being another stock character

in disaster novels you write nightly.


Let me enjoy the moon while it smiles,

before it plucks a breadcrumb from its beard.


I want to walk out with a sense of mystery,

then watch snow with its tranquility.


Don’t deny me surprise. You swear it comes

to kill me while I sleep. I never do.

Ace Boggess is the author of three books of poetry, most recently Ultra Deep Field (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017), and the novel A Song Without a Melody (Hyperborea Publishing, 2016). His writing has appeared in Harvard Review, Mid-American Review, RATTLE, River Styx, North Dakota Quarterly, and many other journals. He lives in Charleston, West Virginia. He received a fellowship from the West Virginia Commission on the Arts and spent five years in a West Virginia prison.

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