Volume One Issue Two
Naomi Glassman
Miles until Michigan
this year is 1986, the last of the storks have
exploded all over like young laughter; I
can remember a Joy in Flint from some
boys who never had parents but
now I know, I know babies come
from pain into the air.
whitewood November wanted
more marble men, and if I had a
haypenny for every war story
I halfheard, we could weight the
eyes of all the boys of Bulge tight
shut, like dead eyes should. But
now is winter, year of the stork
bullet-bitten took a train
into Detroit where the veteran's
lost his grandson in some snow he
is all for coming out from the cold.
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published by Glass Poetry Press.
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