Daylight Savings | Alex Braslavsky

We changed the hour back today.

It gets darker earlier in the evening.

It is a kind of rote plateau.

These bubbles are kind of replacing our teeth.

Soft and popping and faint.

Tranquil as a baby goat on a marijuana farm,
our dog is a haloed galoot.

He dips under the wigged out
big dogs and sleeps.

Look, his noggin on the winceyette down is
reserved for my temples.

The girl who became an internet-famous vegan
and cut off all her hair
contacted me oh well yellow books are friendly books—

yellow books that blend in with the bedspread
are friendly books and the peaches
I am eating in pieces are.

When I left one hair in the sink, used her comb, forgot
to cover my spaghetti bowl with a paper towel
in the microwave, and sharpened my pencils
with the electric sharpener at two in the morning,

it bothered my mother.

Alex Braslavsky is a poet, scholar, and translator working towards her doctorate at Harvard and working on Polish, Czech, and Russian poetry. She is the translator of On Centaurs & Other Poems (World Poetry Books, 2023) by Zuzanna Ginczanka. Her poems appear in The Columbia Review, Conjunctions, Colorado Review, and more.