Issue Twenty-Three - Winter 2014

[mother in 64]

By Adam Walsh

sticks rubbery thin
the kind my mother called a switch
broke skin on her legs
since father caught her in mud
with white church shoes

after she wouldn t say much
left the chickens in grass
threw stones at ducks
rocks cracked greenmallardheads
feathers red metallic and
the wheat fell down

three birds lay in reeds
two float in pondwater
mother pushes their eyes deep

ruptured black beads bleedout
onto beaks

it ll be fine she says
the black lab next door
will find a place for them

Copyright 2014 Walsh

©2007-2017 SHARK REEF :: All works © by their respective Authors :: Like us on Facebook

WordPress Theme by Cloud Islands ::