chickasawhay
It's nice to think that once, very long agomaybe the stars
were the first thing we talked about
sure, there were grunts for "bring" "meat" "here"—
but that's not it:
what brought us out of darkness.
And so now, tonight, deep in Mississippi
—neither tourist nor hunting season—
as I'm alone and seeing them
(or almost alone, as a truck roars over the gravel)
I'm seeing the same thing any of us ever have
no different to the naked eye
A few miles north, heavy machinery drones
and a dog won't shut up in the east
close to me, the sounds of the woods are subtle
and very soft
under the sound of my pen on the page
And I have mixed feelings:
My bed is inside a half-ton of steel.
