Tyler Goldman




The smell of rain.
Or, then again,

the smell of an azalea.
Or the sea.

Of salt and flame
and anise, sesame.

The smell of mint,
of caraway, the faint

sweetness of wet leaves
in fall. Of rye loaves

in the oven. A cigar.
A ripened ear

of corn.
A rose. A fern.

The wind
and what I find

when I take the time
to notice it become

the things it carries:
molecules, memories—

the smell of stone.
Of shallots gone

to flower.
A drawer

of your clothes.
Of dirt and ashes.

Of charred blueberry bushes
and burnt branches.


TYLER GOLDMAN’s poems and translations have appeared or are forthcoming in The Virginia Quarterly Review, Poetry International, Poetry Northwest, The Colorado Review, and elsewhere. He has received scholarships and awards from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, the Academy of American Poets, the University of Maryland, and the University of Utah, where he is currently a doctoral student in English Literature and Creative Writing.


Read more by Tyler Goldman:

Poem in Academy of American Poets
Translations in Virginia Quarterly Review
Translations in Cortland Review