Fall 2009 / Issues / Poetry 2009 / Volume 40

someone’s gonna die: — Ayla Crosswhite

revelry in the woods

magpie on the gallows

ropeless and unsturdy

impossible angles

they creep up the path

a mass like fire ants

dancing near a cross

washing sin downstream

to the mill wheel

to pound out piety

the rocking horse rig

leached history from our core

dinosaur bones and ore

dragons in the castle crags

rocks eaten by water

cut by glaciers

follow me to the sea

steal me a new country

twisted tree like genes

chock under coal cloud skies

stone hoes feel cold like guilt

winter near the alps

fireplace quilts and wet wool

swiss fantasies

cobblestones and cheese

didn’t translate

our ancestors are dead

and they all came from dirt.

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