Jul/Aug 2004 Poetry


by Laird Barron


I saw you
Before I saw them
Red-lipped as if they had gnawed you
Each one fat from staring
At the great black stake

Crowds dispersed as tall clouds do
With small claps and thin forks
Some claimed Christ called down, late
I saw you
You were the same as always
Your hand on your hip
Straw from the field floating
In a halo

I saw you yesterday
I asked this soft ground that folds my shadow
How does the green eat
Everything so quickly?
Today I found your bonnet in high grass
Where the road ends
I saw some birds rising


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