spring2015

Louie Crew ClayRepastGlobules of gravysweat outof my 2-lb hunk of beef.Cattle nuzzle close in the fields.I imagine Jake the Butcher,my neighbor in the next tier,as he hacked out this slab,one more jabtowards his release.No salt peter needed,at least not this round.The onion grass spoils the cow’s milk.Peas float in the red,like balls of soft gangreneas I spoon them,compulsively stir and re-stir,watching whether the pepper and buttercan brown the blood.Over the barn door at homea browned stripe hexes.It won’t work. I rub the bloodwith the hard bread,but the blood drools off.I break the breadand sop it.Jamie had a hard-onas he swungfrom the barn rafters.61