She said to him, Oh, Jack, what have they done?
That time’s lost now, when a stone could hurt,
when a feather missed its wing,
when sky kissed clouds and grass kissed dirt
and nothing thought itself just a thing.
they rise and form their three- or four-bird patrols
leaving the haunted campus behind,
until the priest raven perches alone and calls,
in search of the people none of them can find.
Can they tell we are different, the deer?
Tornillo, Texas It must be assumed that the caretakers— if that’s what they are called and not guards— are kind. If not parents then parental in appropriately incarcerative ways. … Continue reading →