To Which a Scoundrel Clings |
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| Fail | |||
| and try again | |||
| I couldn’t | |||
| admit I’d been wrong | |||
| Even when the floods came | |||
| Signed Lacy Schutz Who | |||
| < back to poetry titles | called the starling | ||
| < back to image | dove I alas | ||
| < back to giornata.net | it was I The amber | ||
| smog rubs its | |||
| groin against the | |||
| grimy window I | |||
| brought the broken bowl I | |||
| fail and try again Turn | |||
| up your lovelight All | |||
| my shames All all | |||
| through the night | |||
| Miraculously my jars | |||
| of oil remain full | |||
| The moon keeps | |||
| no resentment I built | |||
| my town on that | |||
| barren plain We all | |||
| came out covered | |||
| in women’s blood This | |||
| confession has been | |||
| coerced from me I | |||
| just can’t know others I | |||
| called the milk | |||
| thistle mistletoe I | |||
| will bust up the | |||
| mountains If I wake | |||
| you keening in | |||
| my sleep Turn up | |||
| the radio I make | |||
| my decisions | |||
| between _____ and | |||
| where I want | |||
| to be I am | |||
| always passing | |||
| from light into | |||
| darkness It is reported | |||
| your city has been | |||
| unusually cold | |||
| and dark | |||
| this season | |||
| < previous | next > | |||
| previously
published in Mid-American Review v. xxvi, no. 2, Fall 2005 |
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| © Lacy Schutz, 2004 |