ISSUE: Spring/Summer 2023
His noiseless blooming in the callous earth. I followed
a dry-bone branch, spiderweb-cracked, off the Running Turkey.
Under a concrete no-name bridge. Fusty, sallow,
skeletal bass, half-sunk in rock-mud, mouth open to the murk…
Driftless one, did you drown in the air
as you guarded last fry? Did you glare
as your pool was slowly not there?