Poetry | March 01, 2008
Poetry Feature: Michael McGriff
Michael McGriff
Featuring poems from Landscapes with Origins:
- [In the break room]
- [Against my will]
- [The slow child, the small child]
- [Worm of concession]
- [This father and daughter]
- [Midwinter: she doesn’t reach]
[In the break room]
In the break room
the mill holds us
in its mouth:
the graveyard shift
and its floodlights:
Sally’s buying a new trailer:
Tony’s truck’s about paid off:
a certain stillness
between us:
Jake’s back in jail
for getting rowdy:
we are among the chosen:
someone’s daughter
stays up all night
eating her own hair:
a woman on 3rd Street
applies makeup to a corpse
she’s recently washed:
a cop drifts over a fog line
in his Crown Victoria:
the foreman’s girlfriend
stands in the corner:
Todd thinks she looks
like a country singer:
the way her hair shines
like a bare bulb
over broken glass:
she’s new here:
her painted fingernails:
she rests her hand
on the animal of sleep
and it leans
against her leg:
in fifteen minutes
she’ll crawl up a ladder
into a metal cage
where hot sheets of plywood
will shoot out
one after another
like a satanic card trick,
and she’ll guide them
by the edge, in midair,
and let them drop
to the sorter,
until she closes her eyes
just long enough
to catch the rhythm
of her own breath
and float upon the waters
where the animal of sleep
winds through the cattails:
she’ll feel the calm
of starlight subtracted
from daylight:
then a sheet of veneer
will tear open her face:
the mill holds us
in its mouth:
a corpse’s hands
are placed together:
the cop drives his cruiser
into the river:
which will soon fill
with a daylight
our curses may
or may not
ever reach.
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