Poetry By Patricia Davis-Muffett

John Brighenti CC




Past the dead end 

When the asphalt stops
up the steep hill, past
the last painted house,
the last neat yard, 
there is still a way.

If you are willing to step 
over fallen logs, sink 
into mud, navigate 
brambles, you can find
the whisper of a path.
No planks. No stones–
just a hint of feet:
human, deer, fox.

Around the ridge, a hush–
like when power fails 
and you realize what quiet is, 
absent an electric hum.

If you follow, leave 
everything behind. Bring only 
your eyes and ears, your lungs, 
your legs, a bit of paper, 
a pen tucked in a pocket. 
With these, remake yourself,
ready for anything.





Clock watching

3:33, angel numbers in
license plates, phone numbers.
Incant for one moment
what your heart desires.

There was a time when wishes
had names–now wisps trail 
forgotten–the turning of planets, 
metronome of cells. One moment 
to the next, broken glass 
in our hair.

In the middle of the afternoon
in the middle of the night, imagine
what would rend you, play it
like a movie. 

looks like cancer
                                               cuts on his legs
              workforce reduction
he’s gone 
              so quick 
                             he’s gone.

Angel, keep us safe just
              one
                            minute
                                                 more.



​
Patricia Davis-Muffett (she/her) holds an MFA from the University of Minnesota. Her chapbook, Alchemy of Yeast and Tears, was published in spring 2023. Her work has won honors including Best of the Net 2022 nomination, inclusion in Best New Poets 2022, and second place in the 2022 Joe Gouveia Outermost Poetry Contest (selected by Marge Piercy), and appears in Atlanta Review, Whale Road Review, Calyx and About Place, among others.