778 Readings

Well Water

Whirr, whirr the Heartland’s

being mowed up by wind turbines.


Then, a kid chasing, I opened my shin to the bone

on the ball hitch of dad’s truck braking

and bled back to the house.


S’pose you saw the heavy-arcing horizon

of your childhood get flat straining

to influence fate

and you became an even bigger animal of pathos,

head in your hands while the bones of small birds 

fell from the sky and their bodies wouldn’t.
Posted 12/23/17
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