Member Poem

R.T. Castleberry         
2400 S Loop West #1705
Houston, TX 77054
[email protected]
 
THIS MORNING, A WHITE MARE
 
Let the picture lay,
sordid, gorgeous:
a summer chain of iron rain
crushing Four Crows Lake,
raw lather of white water
driving a mist
mad as the beauty of tongue and knife.
This morning, a white mare
lies dying on the flooded road.
 
Let the picture lay,
sordid, gorgeous:
the April arc of mortar fall
crushing desert hills,
swirling spire of dust
driving a haze
savage as the gift of flame and skin.
This morning, a white mare
lies dying on the Yellow Road.
 
Let the picture lay,
sordid, gorgeous:
a morning squall of marsh rain
crushing coconut palm and hibiscus,
piercing lyric of cicadas
driving a line
bitter as the etch of acid and bone.
This morning, a white mare
lies dying on the jungle road.
 
Let the picture lay,
sordid, gorgeous:
the nightly smear of tracer shells
crushing city towers,
laser veils of thermite and circuitry
driving a storm
scarred as the celebration of reflex and error.
This morning, a white mare
lies dying on the market road.
Published in Poet Lore