Going Native by Justin Bond

Poetry
40 pages
8.5" x 5.5" single signature with hand sewn binding
Published March 2014

The Drift

Fear will eat your heart raw
like the buzzard picking at the jellied eye
of the possum carcass along the roadside.
It is growing late, but soon the streetlights
will flicker to life one by one, waking moons
to drown out the stars that can't help but look
like bullet holes riddling the darkening shift
of December sky from hem to hem.
The sow will slaughter the weakest suckling in her drift,
the spider will devour generations to survive the winter.
Ask the wild dog how it feels to know
the guns are always pointed at you.
Because they are, and knowing might save you.
Even guardian angels blink.