Benediction
The wind in swells through the wild rye rolls.The bright sky dulls. Over the hills,Their green backs ringed with blue-Bells sunset-rung, flaps a wingy shadow west-Ward. A jay. Poor bird that no netMet nor gin it didn’t love. Good luck,You luckless scrub, you.You dumb—, you doomedSucker. God bless.
After the Diagnosis
It’s not raining, how is that possible?& there’s a bird at the feeder. How can it be hungry?There are squirrels bickering in the plumtree?Why would someone be flying a kite?That there’s enough windTo make the wind-Chimes chime—
What’s w/ the snoring dog? How is there sleep?How can anything breathe in this distant air?It cannot be the case the only thing to careIs my neighbor’s cat. &, of course, it’s not—She just wanted her supper.Ought not the lavenderIts ravish dampen? Ought not
The light…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, September/October 2019