May 3, 2016 / barton smock

keep

the laziness animals have, that kind of panicked longing…

and brevity, the faith
of insects

–

my shadow, of course, afraid of its borrowed blood

–

that barn
in the middle of nowhere’s haunted eyesight

–

the invisible
after-hours
birth, and the woman

who keeps the baby
despite
its perfection

–

this quiet in the redneck’s
library
of forgiveness, this thunder…

–

the agony of the boomerang’s maker

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