James Lee Jobe Poems

Look, there's Death in Sister's face, in her eyes - that's the poison.
Everyday she eats more poison. For a moment she is alive again,
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A crow screams at me from the eave of the garage roof.
I wonder, does he carry the soul of the man that I slew?
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The city is shivering, empty,
and looks like a model
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It is an old man, ancient, with stiff, white hair
and yellow fingernails, sitting on a sagging bed
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The man was dying, thrown from his truck like a projectile, an accident
in the driving spring rain, a dark country highway. My father,48, lifted
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Six days till Solstice, and in the news there is nothing about kindness;
The war machinery grinds away, lives in the balance teeter and shake,
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Charlie, sunrise is a three-legged mongrel dog,
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The singing leaves and punted footballs drop, and the valley
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Dad pulled his hand away from me as he turned to leave.

I can still feel his hand leaving mine, his skin leaving my skin.
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Yule. A quarter moon southwesters in early evening.
From the darkness above, the lonely sounds of geese.

An uneasiness, an uncertainty lies across the earth.
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