LOOKING FOR TROUBLE

 

 

I’ve lost touch, deaf
to the muses, immune
to the need to wrestle
words into a gravid line:

               heifer down
               with a dead calf
               too big to bear—

                              winch
                              prolapse
                              bullet

               to feed the coyotes
               and golden eagles.

Our fuzzy recollection of the sire
               through the wire
surrounded by a milling herd
of virgins for a day—

               thick-necked brute
               whose dreams came true
               how many times?

No romantic whispers
in the breeze, acorns
and oak leaves falling—

we feed hay,
look for trouble
and pray for none.

 

5 responses to “LOOKING FOR TROUBLE

  1. plainspoken, alive … a beautiful poem. – tony

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your words today make me realize how wonderful your poetry is to feast upon with my morning coffee, and renew my love for poems.

    Liked by 1 person

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