Two Poems by Michael Metivier

In the Night

The small parts of our lives are valuable, the quiet parts of our lives are valuable,
and the value in that does not demand observation.

— Helen Rosner

The deer that sees its face
in a shallow of the creek

rendered in silt and silver—
what does it make of the shiver

rippling across itself, sylvatic
and moonlit, and what does it make 

of the grain in the rock
beside the grain of its grace-

full hoof, of the light
sudden on the hill when I wake

to fetch a cloth and some ice,
but a bright, burning shape.

Economy

A penny moon rose on one side 
of the house then sidled 

to the next. Our daughters too
could not stay still, two 

Goldilocks by turns seeking
comfort in every bed, waking 

me from a dream—my ex-boss 
ordered to pay me for distress,

betraying no regret for it 
as she thumbed through her wallet 

for hundred after hundred in a huff: 
it would never be enough.

Michael Metivier is a poet, lexicographer, and birdwatcher who lives with his wife and daughters in Vermont. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Poetry, Kenyon Review, Columba, and Prairie Schooner. His website is michaelmetivier.com.