Tuesday, April 12, 2011

In Indiana by CE Perry

As promised, here's a poem from Night Work, one of the books I'm giving away this month. I used to keep this poem taped above my desk.

In Indiana

Dead hogs swing in the barn--
discordant pendulums

holding the hour. She braces
each sheep with her thighs

and the wool spills over
like foaming beer. It is

just necessary, nothing
exotic. While the doves

sleep, her pelvis and arms
force time across one

deliberate axis, leaving
the sheep to shiver in

their new blue skin.
This is how the past

becomes the past. This
is how the work gets done.

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