Dave Cowley CC
I think that if I kissed you, it would taste
like rust or moss. Something that forms
when no one is looking.
You teach me how to load a gun,
how to hunt duck and rabbits and quaking deer,
but I long for something larger, I dream
of bears, boars, bison:
pierced and falling to earth.
In the evening the fields turn leaden
gray like my parents. My father dying sunk
full of silver morphine.
No deer here, only a neighbor’s cat
slinking through wheat thinking herself
unseen. I watch us watching her, everything
the color of ghosts.
Everything with a heart fair game.
Soon the woods will turn murky and raucous with dark.
You smile, a trap twisting shut.
Amy DeBellis is from NYC and has had a poetry collection published by Thought Catalog Books. Her debut novel is forthcoming from CLASH Books.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.