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Man’s Fortunate Feast


The fatigue of feast,

the umbrellas and the

suits and ties, the

thunder of it,

floating into panther

fatness full

the checkmarks

that accompany the page

the gluttony of flower prints,

the tight skin of the sterile pear

gone spawned, consumed,

in leaf

no more lamb chops for you,

no more scrambled eggs and greens,

no more aardvark statues,

no more American flags,

no more caterpillars to

torch out of the trees,

cut wood, dead wood,

white pine branches,

drooping cypri,

dog asleep under the brush

also gone,

sun gone in the gray

swimming hole a stage prop,

water from the creek

feeding agile garlic greens in May

whose wallet, whose welfare,

whose heart, whose feathers,

whose darkness is the

darkness of a missing bird,

a tunnel of mind, an income of

herbaceous bruise, who is

and who is not, voracious

braeken gone.

from Night ScenesFind more by Lisa Jarnot at the library

Copyright © 2008 Lisa Jarnot
Used with the permission of Flood Editions.

Published in Lisa Jarnot Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.