Pat Anthony

Reading Margaret Atwood’s Snake Poems

 

only proves the snake is

woven twine tossed onto shivering

grass below the oriole

a streak of iridescent orange

smeared across a gray cloud

 

more is less and

less may or may not be anything more

than what it is

 

the white crowned sparrow

held in my hand yesterday

is but a handful of death

 

today hollowed out

the hearts of both

 

bird and holder

until it takes

a certain effort

to toss it under

trembling cedars

 

shake off the memory

the ants.

tiffany jolowicz Monday on Michigan Island, Yesterday, the Day Before, Two Thousand Years
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