Egressive | Amy Groshek

I was twine in those years,
frayed and snapped,
living from knot to knot.
When the cow refused to find her stall
I took the pipe
that propped the barnyard door
and flailed into her ribs
the droughted corn,
the broken combine,
the ever-falling price of milk.
How could I forgive
what I could not comprehend:
all the promise of my labors
stalled and broken?
Instead I replaced the pipe
against the door through which
the summer sunset beamed.
Step out with me, into that light,
and be no longer a tyrant.
It will be years in that sun, years
beneath the swooping qualms of swallows.
Years before we find our way back,
over the threshold, into the gloom of the barn,
where the scared herd stirs.

 read about the author Contributors.htmlshapeimage_2_link_0

© 2003-2007  |  all rights reserved
xml feed  |  Contrary ® is a registered trademark of Contrary Magazine  |  write to usfeed://
commentary | poetry | fiction | chicago | autumn 2007  
Household Poisons | Thomas King
It Begins when the Leaves Turn | Grace Wells
The Intolerable Nature of Yearning | Katie Kidder
Figure 2 | Lindsay Bell
Egressive | Amy Groshek
Kampala 2012 | Damian Dressick
Today, October the Ninth | Allison Shoemaker
This House | Edward Mc Whinney

Contradiction | from the editor


On the Contrary
Archives | Search
Sponsor a WriterPoisons.htmlBohreen.htmlYearning.htmlFigure.htmlKampala.htmlToday.htmlAutumn-2007.htmlContradiction-1.htmlReviews.htmlContrary.htmlArchives.htmlWritersFund.htmlshapeimage_6_link_0shapeimage_6_link_1shapeimage_6_link_2shapeimage_6_link_3shapeimage_6_link_4shapeimage_6_link_5shapeimage_6_link_6shapeimage_6_link_7shapeimage_6_link_8shapeimage_6_link_9shapeimage_6_link_10shapeimage_6_link_11shapeimage_6_link_12