From The Canal Poem by Michael Dickman
From The Canal
Something breathes
on a dead deer
and the hair inside its ears
wave
Headlights and
rubber
Water fills the black eyeholes that keep seeing everything reflected back from skidding
black macadam
Someone cut your feet off
Someone moved your leg across the street
Someone whistled
Giving birth
you give birth to steam
and maggots
Strange new butterflies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 3:38:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
