George Brooks
The Foxes Have Holes,
or,
Escalante

And finally after all these wonders
a note folded between stones and left
specifically, reveals only as much
as the tall late afternoon clouds where
Poseidon, stately and foreshortened from below,
rides a camel.

Then three brothers in miles consider
thirty more, consider fifty mile mountain
and a bag of screws, consider the tang
of jackrabbit’s blood and thin urine
before they roll up for the night
like the rest.

<< return to the Table of Contents for New Series #1: Summer 2008, Volume 1 Number 1