day makers

the well

it called me.

speech of hooks.

shot once

into the air

and left the horse

to hang

in the barn.


town that I know.

little black feathers

on little black ants


that this also be


I saw many things


as a child.

the way the living

not the dead

would turn.

the night

pared from the wall

a thin thing

over the thin mouth

of my sister.

I thought it all

a circus


but a circus


now I watch

a barn

being raised

and want nothing

for the swallow

on my arm.

a human word

is rape

and human

to go

when called.

I was wrong

to take the knife

from the boy

in the well.

to think it

merely shyness

keeping him small

in that drawn


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