He was crying. @3Somebody get his mother.@1 All day the exhumed bodies in trash bags. Men, women, dogs. Even a parakeet under a cross made of popsicle sticks with a name written on it. Not the meat. The bones the children leave after eating. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INEBRIATE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM VOLPONE: TO CELIA by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS CHANGE by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS THE BRAES OF YARROW by JOHN LOGAN (1748-1788) DICING by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS THE SODA-WATER SLOT-MACHINE by BELLA AKHMADULINA |