DC Reid | Victoria, BC | LCP member since 1991


The industry of waste

As though the animals in their mute dumb offering

As though you were there in your nakedness penis a kind of true

As though morning is the revealer of something better

The blonde beautiful white that took the hour

The flakes of which we hold in awe and do not catch their drift

The day the tide receded and the gulls there now their lifting

As though the hair of my forehead could call itself away

The loon and its laugh that bends the flesh to brokenness and bends it
even more

As if we could by simple show of hands claim forgiveness

The shore the grass the sand that is the work of wasted time

Could we but warm to that and drink the blood of lambs

***
DC Reid has ten books out. His fifth of poetry, What It Means To Be Human, was published in 2010. His sixth will be an interactive website, and he is working beyond on some elegies from which this is drawn. See his site: dcreid.ca, for interesting stuff about the brains of poets.

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