LaMoure Pastoral & Index
-for Sean
i.
There are no more stars
in North Dakota. The bar light
on the streets is a minnow
twisting in mud. Clouds
buffalo the corn fields
into copper lather.
ii.
My uncle was gone most of his life
lacing the stars to his arms.
He says the Lord is a horse
laughing in a burning barn.
No one for miles.
It’s a hunger for the needle,
a bead of sweat from the spider—
the taste of rust traveling
through the veins to open an egg
on the tongue—
iii.
The flesh is its story.
Mark the chapters missing
as written in other bodies—
where one begins and ends
we practice speaking.
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