Sorcery

Crawdad Nelson

Yetner's white slaughterhouse

-ramp to the sky-

about a mile out of town, as I recall,

and the strung-out guts

linked like cantaloupe seeds.

When Evelyn paused to allow

Yetner's grandchildren off Bus 12,

a four-pointer rose from the grass

like a myth-stilting on hard pegs-

arcing, aloft.

Published by Crawdad Nelson

I'm a student, journalist, naturalist and forager. I've worked in a variety of occupations, from greenchain puller to small magazine editor, sometimes more than one at a time.  View profile

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