by James Brush
Poems written by me.
the moon
cradled in elm
branches
plastic ghosts
sway on the wind
long autumn
shadows
full trees still
cling
to summer
a sulphur butterfly
rides prairie wind
late sunflowers
lean heavy
against a barbwire fence
everyone’s asleep
my footsteps in the dark house
the box fan rattles
autumn grass
sunglare scattered
in dry fields
starlings
swirl from highway signs
southbound traffic
daddy longlegs
slips across autumn sunlight
barred windows
School bathroom,
fluorescent light, linoleum.
Two cold-blooded singers
face off in the corner, circling,
testing–lunge and feint.
I wash my hands.
Watch the black-clad
rivals unable to back down
or go around until someone
brings a broom and dustpan,
sweeps up these two, away
to feed chickens in the yard,
their twelve legs locked
in pointless combat.
—
For Prompt #1 at This Is Not a Literary Journal: Write about the first animal you see today. I didn’t include my dogs, opting instead for wild animals. Those turned out to be crickets and the beetles that appear to stalk them, both of which have infested our school, and are now being swept up and taken to feed the chickens.