Fall 2009, #16
       "Woodchuck vs. the Hank Williams Zombie"
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Three Poems

     by Jessica Baron

       How the swallow song does not disrupt
silence creates more.

 

 

       Father putters from room to room
                               no voices.

 

 

                 That’s a clue. Information has become too scarce.

 

…

 

              Tuesdays: I will turn in pain. Allow
myself to sit mindless. Watch
          the colored lights
                       of the television.

 

                               Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?

On this mountain for some time now
            I’m not sure what the sundial reads

                                                            complete in breath.
                                               Riddled with it.

 

 

 

                                                  To break down the body’s organs
                                                            one by one

                                                                         as such attacks go
                                                              death toll was minor.

There’s something I’m supposed to be saying.

The fear in the passing storm.
           Converse calming

                                                          patchwork of smaller bases.

                           I didn’t throw away the just.

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