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©2018 Barren Magazine. An Alt.Lit Introspective.

Owl-and-Wolf-Infested Lands


by Jack B. Bedell

—after Bachelin

Always an angry wind. Sky
like smeared ink. Marsh grass

bent away as salt water

creeps in through the canal. Cypress
knots poked up

along the path, no trees alive

before the horizon

line. Our hearts, always
left

napping back at camp, unwilling

to leave the glow of bed, dreams

of moon, flowers’ soft

touch:

morning, with cream

for coffee, eggs, open flame

to heat cast iron, butter sizzle.

Water chokes everything here, hungry
for roots, skin, loose threads

hanging from

days’ work, days’

heat

that settles all wind, and voice. This night,

though,

with its dank stars, its

greasy air, sharp reeds no one can

touch. An endless winter

route

which has never led anyone, anywhere.

 

Header photograph © Jason D. Ramsey.

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