Je vous attends by Yves Tanguy


There’s someone, possibly hurt, missing.


     (These planks of wood are proof.)


There’s a hole somewhere.


     But that’s only part of the story I pieced


together from bits of shipwreck—


     the impenetrable fog, the disfigured


mess, makes meaning of all this.


     One black boot was washed up, its laces gone.


Somehow I know to look for the other. I stand


     near the sea but can’t see past the fog. Useless.


But still, I look and find, I think, something


     silent, and impassable, something the map


could never have predicted.

Nathan McClain is the author of Scale (Four Way Books, 2017), a recipient of scholarships from The Frost Place and the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, and a graduate of Warren Wilson's MFA Program for Writers. A Cave Canem fellow, his poems have recently appeared or are forthcoming in Callaloo, Ploughshares, American Poets, Sou'wester, Broadsided, and Tinderbox. He lives in Brooklyn.