Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2014  Vol. 13  No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Of Opposites

We call the dog a pig, but
in the most affectionate manner—

it’s the grunts he grunts
when lifted one place to another

or tempted with a bite of kibble,
little red drum thumping

in his ribcage’s fluttering dance hall.
On one side of this, the blood-tempo beating,


on the other: dark overspray of matter
as the gunman turns the barrel on himself.

(Stand up, frightened boy-ghost,
test the balance of your boat.

Is he drifting, rowing, a bit of both?)
A door inside a door inside a room:

sand-fine ice hurries into banks, drifts—
early March, of course. The bottom-dregs.  end  

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