» Poetry

On Hearing of Yellowstone’s Latest Swarm of Earthquakes

Part of me has always wanted

the world to shake every morning,

just so I felt alive. Only minor tremors,

of course, nothing elaborate. A fallen

fence maybe, or a few globs of fruit

dropping in the field. That way I’d know

daylight again. I could feel it. I could

draw the blinds and run my hands along

a cracked window pane—that slice of life

that makes across the glass a flowing river.

Outside, the parking lot could fold a little,

ripple like a cornfield in Kansas. One streetlight,

every morning, could crash into the street,

that’s all. And listen, don’t get me wrong.

I don’t want pain or loss or the crumbling of

city hall. I only want a modest nudge to say

hello. I want to know the world is here,

and so am I. Yes, so am I.


Travis Truax

Travis Truax earned a bachelor’s degree in English from Southeastern Oklahoma State University in 2010. After college he spent several years working in various national parks out west. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Connecticut River Review, Quarterly West, Bird's Thumb, The Pinch, Raleigh Review, and The Cossack Review. Currently he lives in Bozeman, Montana and tweets @travis_truax.