Mest lästa ▸
Dave Bonta
in the real world
hills are for cemeteries
from a distance the gravestones
might as well be stumps
or teeth waiting for the other
jaw to descend
a woman lets
her rottweiler run
a gravedigger operates
a small backhoe
i browse the headstones
as if they were spines of books
GIVEN says one and i feel guilty
for killing time
try not to look over
at the mountain
In the news, there’s a report that COVID-19 antibodies might not persist for more than a few weeks, and therefore that we can expect no herd immunity. Thinking about this, I barely hear the black-and-white warbler wheezing or the wood-pewee’s melancholy melisma. But then, from around the bend, a deer comes bounding straight towards me, doubtless trying to escape her nimbus of flies. I freeze. She stops 50 feet away and stares, moving her head from side to side for a better view. Human, or a tall stump? She makes up her mind to step warily around me. And I am a stump. I barely remember having my head in the clouds.
whose road is this
the tree snake’s
rootless flow
In Oklahoma,
Bonnie and Josie,
Dressed in calico,
Danced around a stump.
They cried,
“Ohoyaho,
Ohoo” ...
Celebrating the marriage
Of flesh and air.