I saw the tibia flute that you
sent and didn’t bat
a lash. The sorcerer though
put a story in my head where
one owl carried my eye to
a beehive, one carried my
eye to an anthill and I was swept
back into the mixing
bowl part of my brain where I don’t
even remember how many
times I’ve fired this gun
All those tracks we’ve been
following turn out
to be our own
Michael Sikkema has worked in factories, YMCA camps, and landscaping. He is the author of three books of poetry, most recently
May Apple Deep from Trembling Pillow Press. He is also the author of several chapbooks and collaborative chapbooks, most recently
Time Missing, an exploration of alien abduction and pioneer captivity narratives, available from Grey Book Press. He enjoys correspondence at michael.sikkema@gmail.com
the Tuesday poem is curated by
rob mclennan
No comments:
Post a Comment