i.m. Joseph Bernardin & Meridel Le Sueur

A strange fortitude hovers over the fort
this morning     spangled pupils aim for the black
holes in bunkered irises:     with a bark
a virtual Putnam keys a command:     Foursquare alert!

I had a dream last night I was talking
to a poisonous spider like a little white ball
rolling toward me--     he was the King of Milk
in the murk of a cedar cellar     & he swirled,
ALMA     among his lambs     amid a UNION
swathed in silver pennies     & Chicago cardinals

From you, for you, with you     shall not
perish     though the sword rose in sorrow
& bitter to the taste--    each coin farmed out to the river
turned copper and rusted     in your streambed heart

Henry Gould | Island Road 31
Contents | Mudlark No. 6