by David Ossman
First the squirrel ran
inside the shadows of a woodpile
and then
over soared
the eagle
out of a blue clear sky
pursued
by
a tempestuous
sparrow
The War follows like a pair of killer jets
scattering the oysters
shattering the ordinary day
searching out bad guys
like loud-mouthed squirrels
panicked, shivering
in a prison of
old boards
late june oh three
FOR MY MOTHER, JORDAN, 98
1. “A FIRE AS BIG AS KITTENS”
You read that in the wrinkles
of my shirt
The day comes down to
some few vague images you may remember
the
illusion between your fingers
which demands fingering
and
what’s left is the food on your plate
“A fire as big as kittens”
