Sean McDonnell

You Shovel Under Stars

Narrow, meticulous
rows slough up the way
neck flesh folds
across your collar.

Familiar, loping
stoop of your walk
as though lead
pipes swung
from your wrists.

Shovel rust browns
your gloves' wool.

Old hypnosis:
the wind fires up
galactic flake squalls, ducts
through which your death--
the dark burst
coal my days collapse towards--
is disclosed.


Copyright © 1998 by Sean McDonnell. All rights reserved.