Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2022  Vol.21  No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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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  

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