Poetry by Andrew Demcak, Photo by Mitch Miller
 

Sheep in Fog

for Heath and Jake

 


the denim sky

cotton upon cotton

with a necessary smearing of blood

 

the dolorous hooves

like a heaviness

of heart

your shotgun resting on top of

mine

all morning

nothing has been left out

 

you are a clenched fist by my sure flank

you melt beneath my holding

o slow horse

half-cocked

crossing a rock-strewn psyche

 

the flowing field of my body

the line

that you cross

with your white disappointment

hearing the peal of rusty bells

voices

of others who regard us

with the caught

stillness of fish

trapped in spring puddles

 

who threaten us thoroughly

like fathers



 
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