Someone says "my country" / and I see a riverbed and many brooks. / I hear brakes and bells, see a pigeon / shot from the sky, small cloud falling.
by Marilyn McCabe I have twisted their bodies on staffs, rows of them exposed. They are becoming ruddy. Soon it will be time to gather and store. Make of me a harvester. Make of me bees. Something in me has gone to seed. MARILYN MCCABE's book of poems Glass Factory was published in spring 2016. Her… Continue reading Orchard Psalm: I have twisted