Saturday, July 3, 2010

Ripped From Us During Endless Harvest

by Brian Le Lay

today is the first
of a long October

an Indian summer
that will lapse upon
our shoulders
for decades

plumes of smoke etched
in the New York skyline
that will last forever
in the books

we will paint autumn
leaves a moist salty
shade of blue

in the driveway
of a man
who went off
in the name
of the dollar

leaving behind
two little girls
and a confused
widow who
will only cry
in private

during harvest we wait
for the phone call--
"we found his body"

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