Issue Four

Summer 2012

 

Metamorphoses



These things we knew.

That the dark mud of the mere
swallowed the flocks of autumn nightfall.

That the hawk’s amphetamine hunger in winter
became the cuckoo’s spite in spring.

That the rood goose was born
from out of the barnacle’s shell.

That the fireflirt’s song of summer kindled
from the embers worn by the robin.


____________________________

Matt Merritt

 

 

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