My grandmother is in the backyard feeding the deer that file like ghosts up from the stream, cold, cold, where Marybelle drowned herself in the spring of eighty-one, a little tetched, where sassafras leaves like mittened hands hold the thrashing air until it quiets down and slides under the surface, where carefree water striders float, … Continue reading
Fall 2010 / Issues / Poetry 2010 / Volume 41