William J Neumire
A stiff deer hangs from a tree
in the front yard, split down the center
like an open cellar door.
In the kitchen I can hear
conversations between siblings,
buds of feuds which will leave
certain factions of the genealogy
silent until cancer, heart
failure and hospital
beds force them to break their vows
like celibate monks discovering passion.
As a child, from this distance, I know
that there will be venison
next week, antlers will dangle
above my uncle’s bed
in the pieceboard room upstairs,
that already brothers and sisters
are tracing tectonic lines
and preparing for the greatest missteps
of their lives.
I know that for a moment,
in the reflection of a Chevy Nova window,
I saw the hooves twitch, some nerve
fighting against the inevitable
some limb begging the body not to give in.
Brockport, New York
Adirondack Review, Poetry Midwest, Zuzu's Petals, 2River, AugustCutter, Blue Mesa Review, Melange, Pierian Springs, ThreeCandles, Stirring, etc.
Resonance of Kin, Between Worlds, Need for the Missing (forthcoming, Pudding House Press)
Guest Editor : May, 2003
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