Summer 1995 • Vol. XVII No. 3/4 Poetry |

Spirit

        Feliz noche bajo las estrellas rojas!               GONZALO ARANGO Think of me as a rat the size of a pistol, my tail tight like a twisted bill, the quick slip of me into shadows. Think of me as a river spirit, studying the broken green glass and the rusted spike, imitating the way the dead immigrants spoke, watching the barges like black corpses drift in the reflected mill fire, waiting, always waiting for the ghost train, the one that comes at 2:05 and full of freight. Think of me as the rat unseen in the weeds until the clouds move, my wings wet like oil in the moonlight, and the stars, the stars of Pittsburgh in my tiny eyes.

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To the Dead Farmer

By Maurice Kilwein Guevara

        Feliz noche bajo las estrellas rojas!               GONZALO ARANGO Think of me as a rat the size of a pistol, my tail tight like a twisted bill, the quick slip of […]

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