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.