print previewback KATE NORTHROP
The Director
They were something else
They were a sprinkler rotating
over the lawn in the dark
A path was cleared ahead,
sparrows flew out. What was printed, I saw,
drawn from the page by flame
Thickets went, agreements,
but something was stuck
shaking in their fingertips?
I’d stopped by, knocked
against the side of the house. Hello!
I was armed with Bundt cake—
And I kept setting up the tables,
opening windows, looking
nightly out at the prairie
How it runs along
beside the highway, strands of lights
floating mobile homes 
The Director
The Pickup’s