Elegy for Elizabeth
ADAM DAY
                —Horse Cave, Kentucky

My grandmother is talking
no one’s ear off, except
a cloudy-eyed sheepdog,
and the jackdaws gleaning
her blackberry bushes.
They drop their shit
on her white Plymouth,
whose dashboard carries
a statuette of Christ.
She thinks he fattens
her tomatoes. Still
she’s winging crabapples at
a midnight rabbit, sighing,
bastards, horse-flies hanging
above the compost’s body
of blown leaves.
ADAM DAY is the recipient of a 2010 PSA Chapbook Fellowship for Badger, Apocrypha, and of a 2011 PEN Emerging Writers Award. His work has appeared in the Boston Review, APR, Poetry London, AGNI, The Iowa Review, Poetry Ireland Review, Guernica, and elsewhere. He coordinates The Baltic Writing Residency in Latvia and Scotland, and is an Advisory Editor for the literary & comics journal, Catch Up.