September 13, 2011

weekend-readsLet Me Remind You You Are Still Under Oath

Out of marsh out of the bronchial tree limbs out of low clouds we grow up to be President, we emerge as nurses or green grocers or red lips waiting for a cigarette. From the lagoon beside the postcard meadow under elk- antlered skies we are raised to a flame in a streetlight. Arterial dust mites. A gnat’s death banged out by the New York Times. From the Why-hast-thou and the We’ll-be-back-soon, through siren wail and bird call we step up with our sticks and stigmatas, our forged documents. We mature into the foxtrot and cha-cha-cha. Past the Dead End and Deaf Child signs and out of the valley’s huge cowbells we evolve as hammers chisels sprung traps. We ring up the Colonels

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.