There is a feathered June Friday night postcard, of the evening, from the evening. Dear Astrid, dear Sabrina, dear David, Enjoy me in your noisy Ford Focus as it whirrs over the swamps & lakes between Boston & Hartford. Enjoy the catalpa blooms that fall on the heads of pedestrians. You saw all week the pig & cow side of things, those hot summer city days that are really tan-lines on man-boobs in rural semi-tropic overalls under grapevines in driveways. In ancient Rome, there's too much sauce to cover meat gone bad. Breathe in this wetland flush of state flower bushes. My cabins hide behind the peeling billboards. Love, the Evening.

DAVID BLAIR was born in 1970. He grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and has degrees from Fordham University and the creative writing program at UNC Greensboro. His poems have appeared in Boston Review, Fence, The Greensboro Review, The Harvard Review, Ploughshares, Verse, and been featured in the anthologies Zoland Poetry and The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet. He is an associate professor at The New England Institute of Art in Brookline, Massachusetts. He lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, with his wife Sabrina and daughter Astrid.