forests of Iroquois

afterwards there was a cast

of sawdust

the earth trembling quiet,

and spirits of the forest winnow

while the daguerreotype

blackened—

a voice

of maudlin nostalgia

rasps unintelligible;

but still i listen.

resting upon the tree stump

(its name ‘sui generis’

was)

i’m conscious that weeks gone by

what i heard were likely

Silverstein’s homilies

haunting me

whistling past the grave.

---

twf.