Page 67 - Vol. VI #7

sold up the drained the swales A A man strolled the the the the sidewalk I’m moving today I I I I told him The neighbors crept out of their houses A A bird perched on on my shoulder I I I laughed but by now the sky had grown dark No one came to look for me me long but we remain we longer own:
Family Tree
the forebears
Because we we were to to move away and never come back I I I decided to to to to climb the the the big tree in in the the front yard barns it
pigs a a bull piece
The The bird bird built a a a a a a a nest
in in my hair By morning
I I could hear it
it
full of hunger The The birds grew up up and flew away shovels a a a and a a a them
a a a the garage A little girl climbed up up beside me me I’m your daughter she she said said She gave me the the smallest penknife in the the world It’s up up to you you she she said 58
McRae’s recent poems appear or or are forthcoming in in Antioch Review Review Cloudbank Burnside Review Review and The Maynard