Arts + Scene » Poetry

along the fence



okay, someday you know, you wake up like,
"oh, what's left of me won't
get me
to the next station" —

or maybe someone comes with
a jackrabbit in her teeth and
lays the limp fellow
at your feet.

or like a mother lays down to
nurse her young buck —
his hoof and hock snapped clean —
wet bone in the blackberry leaves.

she circles. stamps her feet. angry. helpless. grieves.

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