NEW DAY

Under the awning
a dog laps

water from a tin plate.
I am not there,

I am a seed: planted
below these

laurels and firs,
beginning

to see sun. There
is a sound, ambiance

in nature: a crack
in the earth.

The insect
awakes and shows

off his hinges
as work on the train

nearby hisses
cold. New day

emerges like a cramp
in an old arm:

alarmed of even
itself, but alive.




Andrew Gordon Rogers recently graduated from the University of Kansas with a BA in Creative Writing. He now resides in Kansas City and continues to write poetry and fiction.