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literature
beyond the state border
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Literature Text
I pull my jacket collar up
as the wind picks up
and up
and up.
the barn walls rattle,
and the threshold battles the rain that plunges in torrents
and I listen to the choppy AM radio currents:
they tell me I need to leave my land,
take my wife and children by the hands
and lead them south.
they tell me if I’m beyond the state border I’m already a dead man.
my teeth chatter where I stand.
I hear the hail like drops of shale
upon my roof of straw and nails.
cookies are baking
my children are waking
I enter the house
a gay smile faking.
my hands are shaking as I’m waiting.
morning mumbles of school yard troubles
from the day before at the Montessori.
questions and answers
and
window glances
in between sips of iced tea
I’m drenched, sweating out the dramatic irony.
she sees the look in my eyes
finds my espy and looks to the skies
through the glass and the sheers and she sees the clouds queer
through the snow and towards the state border.
but before I can clasp her hand
she gasps
small seconds pass
the children fall quiet
and I’m a dead man.
as the wind picks up
and up
and up.
the barn walls rattle,
and the threshold battles the rain that plunges in torrents
and I listen to the choppy AM radio currents:
they tell me I need to leave my land,
take my wife and children by the hands
and lead them south.
they tell me if I’m beyond the state border I’m already a dead man.
my teeth chatter where I stand.
I hear the hail like drops of shale
upon my roof of straw and nails.
cookies are baking
my children are waking
I enter the house
a gay smile faking.
my hands are shaking as I’m waiting.
morning mumbles of school yard troubles
from the day before at the Montessori.
questions and answers
and
window glances
in between sips of iced tea
I’m drenched, sweating out the dramatic irony.
she sees the look in my eyes
finds my espy and looks to the skies
through the glass and the sheers and she sees the clouds queer
through the snow and towards the state border.
but before I can clasp her hand
she gasps
small seconds pass
the children fall quiet
and I’m a dead man.
this i hate more than salad with no cheese
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