By Rodney Nelson

I brought in the autumn dandelion crop
with an eye while no one’s raft of log and stick
and trashy weed came down the river

early sapient men would not have wanted
a few of anything but I had a mind
to each bent flower and its meaning

they would have swum to it and gotten the raft
idea and then gone on to piracy
and cod hunt and the garbage freighter

no one’s hand had made the one-branch prow I saw
and the flowers were ready but not waiting
for the next early men or the last

Categories: Issue 5, Poetry | Leave a comment

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