Eighty-Sixth Entry

So, happy birthday to OH SWEET DEATH! My blog's one-year anniversary came and went without me saying anything! Because I didn't have a poem. Which is one of the rules of the blog. I didn't start it to talk about myself, but I've been doing some of that lately anyway.

What do I have to show for my one year? Eighty-six poems. And not much else. But that, again, was the point. I've been published a lot since I started, and I have a Master's in Creative Writing now. And, for the moment, a girlfriend. We'll see if THAT one is around next year. Oddly enough, I'm not worried.

Anyway, I was recently published in Maureen Thorson's NaPoWriMo chapbook and in classmate Mark Lamoreaux's My Spaceship. You can find out how to order those duders by clicking the corresponding links on my list. Also, Silliman reviews Spaceship and MENTIONS MY NAME!!!! though not anything about my poem, since I assume it speaks for itself. Badly.

Here's my poem:

THE HUMAN LAMB

Finally I tore the lambs apart.
I laid down in the field
and breathed in my bones
and expelled movement.
The smoke was my first sign
something was coming
across the plains
where I had been born
and had rolled in the mud
fearing this day.

I ripped one of my own limbs off
so I would empathize; and here
we are, in this courtroom,
about to convict an innocent man.
I warned you about the wallet-black voice,
the scythe swinging on a moonlit night.
I warned you about the troubles.

The meat had been gamey
and we threw it in the brook.
In the sweltering morning,
mosquitoes, tan from the heat
would slap us all day
out of our dreaming
and help us concentrate on the work:
separating skin from bone.
Keeping bone. We were always
more interested in survival
than in surviving.