an online literary magazine for extra pungent poetry and prose

Kimberly Ann Southwick

THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT HERE ISN’T THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT SOMEWHERE ELSE

the white-browned tit-warbler is the first animal I love
in the year of the metal rat, though they are not all

cotton candy-colored, as the fluff in the tweeted photo,
leading me to a Google search to learn more, may

have led me to believe. in fact it seems most share white
& brown as major colors & their feathers may otherwise hint

at purple in the underbelly or appear as a red crown. it is raining
& fifty-something degrees & January in Louisiana. a line break,

I learn, shows me where I can use fewer words than I first
might have wanted. is it the seasons? that they change

& the birds might change too? as we
trim beards or adopt new hairstyles,

wear cashmere sweaters instead of linen skirts.
the warblers are winter birds & sing in high pitches,

in twos. I edit the poem to form couplets.
I know when it rains here 

it doesn’t everywhere rain, but when the moon is new here,
it is new in the Himalayas, too. in the winter, the warblers descend,

fly down from the high grounds of their mating. foothills
is the only beautiful word in English containing the word foot.

sometimes, one word is better than two; sometimes
a thing repeated is worse than the thing just once.

someone, in the replies to the tweet of the warbler,
asks the account whether the photos are hers,

likely knowing they are not; the account frequently tweets
uncredited photos of what I can only describe as things that are soft.

the moon is not soft tonight, though quiet. the rain is not soft.
this poem is soft, getting softer—now it’s quiet, too,

except for the rain & all the loud voices in my mind like did I pay our bills
on time, what more should I have asked for, was the baby safe

inside me when I tripped forward & almost fell, how much longer
will the loudness in my brain thrum before letting me sleep. perhaps 

the rain here, though not cotton-candy soft, is
soft, somehow, afterall.


Kimberly Ann Southwick (she/her) is an Associate Professor of Creative Writing and English at Jacksonville State University in Alabama. She is the author of the debut full-length poetry collection Orchid Alpha (Trembling Pillow Press, 2023). She founded and edited the literary-arts journal Gigantic Sequins, from 2009-2026, when it began a semi-permanent hiatus. She is a member-at-large on the board of the Emily Dickinson International Society. You can read her recent work in American Poetry Review, Susurrus, Oscillations, and more. Find her on social media via @kimannjosouth or visit kimberlyannsouthwick.com for more.