Posts in Poetry
locusts

it sounds like the hands of a clock: it sounds
like a bike chain slapping: it sounds like famine-
-coughing: trumpets call and wings unfurl

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PoetryRucker Manley
A Crown for Seventeen-Year Cycles

1998
Hear, on the cusp of second millennium
sonic drone of endless septendecim
mating in the trees; this is their moment—
brood color-cast in standard screen ratio,
Kansas brood, pride of the Midwest—hear them
from the comfort of your mother’s full womb.

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PoetryAmanda Trout