Page 28

THE BRUISE Christian Rees of deer blinds of ragweed spore, thistle, burr latched to flank, of red on blackbird’s wings, every hawk’s faithful shadow, of car light and its deeper bruising and the passing bruises of a power line’s electric cicada hum of deer fences of the muddy footprint of air of fouled rain water of dead heat, of the world choosing not to rise at dawn, of stained glass bluebirds of cardinals, the red lips of pin-up girls, of the incapability of understanding deer, their raw, dumb animal figures, eyes wisps in the dark of the road of ears that hear the other music, the music of bones, of predation, of dew like a plague, of flattening tall grass circling a wide mile of steps that cut and bruise dividing what’s yours and what’s theirs.

22 |

Christian Rees

Permafrost Magazine Summer Issue, 36.2  
Read more
Read more
Similar to
Popular now
Just for you