In high school I lied about my dead father's death,
said he died of a heart problem. I couldn't say
the word suicide. But it was heart trouble
that took him so low he couldn't come back up.
He owned the ESSO on the main highway, Number One,
from New [...]
He never was much for sewing, but my dead father
is back for an instant at the yard sale. He rummages
through a box of old patterns stacked like corpses.
He tosses them over his skinny shoulder into the yard.
What is he after? What's so important do [...]
The man with the shotgun
propped on his belly
has work to get done, watches each man
swing the bushax, hack with the slingblade,
sumac and mullein falling before them.
Cars whisper past a young prisoner
with kinky blond hair. Reflections
are the face [...]