She has drunk hemlock all winter,
intimacy with earth.
Ponderous, slow-footed, she rises,
black magma, a boulder
rolled onto these fields:
quill pig, cumbersome hump of herbs
and twigs, rump
rigid, a mountain of spines
to tell an earthly fortune.
First green prickles from the sod.
More ancient myth heaves stout
and brown, chunk of turf
fed on years of roots and bark,
walking wilderness, keeping its pace,
patient, … Continue Reading ››
All his life, he’s galloped at the center
of the herd, pressed and protected by jolting
bodies as they swept across the veldt
like a river of horn meat, blood, and hair.
Yet no matter how the rest bellowed
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how the men, one of them
my uncle, tried to force
the horse into the trailer
how the gelded bay
balked and hopped, reared
gleaming and wild-eyed
how the three of them
refused to be beaten
by a dumb animal
and my uncle found a 2x4,
pounded the bay’s rump
step by step into the metal cave
how my aunt and cousins
and I shouted Stop, stop!
and the … Continue Reading ››