Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Raw Connections

Red Shuttleworth



Raw Connections

Rain on ice and snow and it's all ponding

on the gravel road and in my north pasture.

It's February like a warehouse of old
political campaign placards and buttons...
the lonesome of a pocketknife in the hand
of a meth-ripped night watchman.

Rain on ice and ankle-deep snow
and maybe it won't all freeze
before some coyote breaks leg
lunging for barn cat or shaggy goat.

It's February like canned spaghetti,
cubed hot-dogs, and a Jim Beam thirst.

It's raining hard on TV in a black
and white movie with subtitles
your eyes are too aged to read.

This is February, roads are slick,
and you have a lifetime supply
of crayons: metallic-coppers,
sparklers, and just-plain blue ones.

What you don't have, by right-now,
you sure-as-drizzlin'-shit ain't gettin'.

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