This poem is taken from Stand 235, 20(3) September - November 2022.
The Blue Hill Cycle
1. That Day
His arms around a broken sack
of potatoes, and barefoot, he
shoves his way up the porchstep.
It is then that the sliver of wood enters in.
Blood at the back of his lids
...
His arms around a broken sack
of potatoes, and barefoot, he
shoves his way up the porchstep.
It is then that the sliver of wood enters in.
Blood at the back of his lids
...
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