Attempt
March 12, 2026
Attempt
I’m trying to see
how far a man can walk
while standing still.
Maybe that is death:
falling asleep, and travelling
so far inside the body
you can’t find your way out again.
Winter nights, a few small clouds
shriveled up like chicken hearts.
The wind chasing its own tail forever.
I’m here, my love,
I’m still alive.
I’m singing to you,
even when my mouth is closed.
Lloyd Wallace is the Managing Editor of Poetry Daily. His writing has appeared in the Iowa Review, Poetry Northwest, the Washington Square Review, and elsewhere. He lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Read more at lloydwallace.com.
