Adam Gnade

Yesterday I went down to the catfish pond and it looked like the end of the world—the waters receding to nothing, the land all cracks and leftover things (a Christmas tree in the water, the exoskeleton of a crayfish, a Zippo lighter rusted to stone.) This is what it looked like. Dry. Dead silent. A thousand years from now and a thousand in the past. Meanwhile the woods were rustling and alive. I stayed on the borderland.