Once language exists only to convey
information, it is dying…
Richard Hugo, The Triggering Town.
The bank’s vault, loaded with
the once friendly girls
and cash, dropped off
the map last night.
Men in black suits
were seen on the outskirts
of town, snuggling our tomorrows.
Hymnals fled out of state,
passing young and virtuous
fields of sweet air.
We went home for our axes,
broke open the safe
for anything legally ours,
but by time we got there,
the metal hummed
a train’s sad whistle.
The corn grew back taller
in its sweet time,
produced sons and daughters –
though our wives
had run off with any moon
or star that would have them.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 16, Issue 2.
Paul Dickey is a poet and philosophy instructor in Omaha. Dickey’s second book of poems, Wires Over the Homeplace was published in September, 2013 by Pinyon Publishing. His first book of poems, They Say This is How Death Came Into the World was published in 2011 by Mayapple Press.
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