<div><p><i>Men carry a mattress retrieved<br>from a dumpster past the flooded<br>foundations of an unfinished<br>high-rise, an old woman catches<br>a pigeon in the folds of her dress<br>the dead smile and rise from swimming<br>pools or stand at attention<br>on stamps. The landscape can't believe<br>it's real—there is no ground<br>beneath it, like what mirrors do.</i></p><p><b>Adam Day</b> is the recipient of fellowships from the Poetry Society of America and Kentucky Arts Council, and a PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work has appeared in<i>Boston Review</i>, the <i>Kenyon Review</i>, <i>American Poetry Review</i>, <i>AGNI</i>, the <i>Iowa Review</i>, and others.</p></div>