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Green to Ash, and: Warn the Future

Green to Ash, and: Warn the Future TERESE SVOBODA Two Poems green to ash e n Th o-cloud-at-all sky, the whisper of ne in w vereather as in— the mind blanks. Night, that cloud , but it’s hot even under the moon the fur rows lie fallow under, and the dust plumes and p lumes, even the weeds lie flat in the mornin g, the deep green of the last drop turns a s cum dried black at the tank, the tank ringed where hope evaporates. e b Th irds leave off circling and pant under the curled leaves of the saggin g trees, the sun bare but innocent, everywhere rippled stalks so light light fills them with empty— As if some terrible massacre has occur red, no one goes outdoors. 108 warn the future Semaphore and sirens, a fist to the mo uth to muffle a screecheNd o while the future’s m Ye osde ls nude . I’m not looking at sand screws, a big win d, a kick through the r oof, bone ache, a be e out of lin e. I’ve got two porches, the insurance of de bt, the social of insecur ity, forty years of foreshado wing, a prime rate. e http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Manoa University of Hawai'I Press

Green to Ash, and: Warn the Future

Manoa , Volume 31 (1) – May 10, 2019

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Publisher
University of Hawai'I Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2019 University of Hawai'i Press.
ISSN
1527-943x

Abstract

TERESE SVOBODA Two Poems green to ash e n Th o-cloud-at-all sky, the whisper of ne in w vereather as in— the mind blanks. Night, that cloud , but it’s hot even under the moon the fur rows lie fallow under, and the dust plumes and p lumes, even the weeds lie flat in the mornin g, the deep green of the last drop turns a s cum dried black at the tank, the tank ringed where hope evaporates. e b Th irds leave off circling and pant under the curled leaves of the saggin g trees, the sun bare but innocent, everywhere rippled stalks so light light fills them with empty— As if some terrible massacre has occur red, no one goes outdoors. 108 warn the future Semaphore and sirens, a fist to the mo uth to muffle a screecheNd o while the future’s m Ye osde ls nude . I’m not looking at sand screws, a big win d, a kick through the r oof, bone ache, a be e out of lin e. I’ve got two porches, the insurance of de bt, the social of insecur ity, forty years of foreshado wing, a prime rate. e

Journal

ManoaUniversity of Hawai'I Press

Published: May 10, 2019

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