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My Grandfather Speaking in His Sleep

By Nat Myers From Issue No. 6

seeing that miner’s daughter

with a plug in her thigh

she balanced on the bone cane

wound seeping thru her tourniquet

since she got hit in the unarmed protest

by a pinkerman’s slug

and I wondered what sheds she’d tread through

toe main poison

in the snake’s eyes behind the eve like pennants

the house where the saints fled

domestic abuse, they say another pale moon

the neighbors never raise their voices

and the gnats never sleep never hear

it makes me sad and down to see

what is called belly ache all you want

the rare moment felt to be in its absence now

fading, or never fading

them places of greatest sorrow

this true place you live in

you can’t find on the map

About Nat Myers More From Issue No. 6