The Boneyard Poem by Martin Lochner

The Boneyard



half blind insistence
to hunt

the old man escorted
by his son

Silhouette glimmer
black dot moving

is that a buck on the
horizon

the son confirms
yes father

the shot cuts through
the dry sky

the blot flattens and
the son says

you got him well done

later the afternoon
Abel bury

the once able bodied farm hand

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