Wednesday, February 08, 2017

Shahé Mankerian: Burial

When the shovel fell, the dirt exposed

the white baby shoes. The eroded soil 
failed to bury the stitches on the soles 

and the scratches on the left tongue. 
Father looked away and gazed 
at the curling smoke from his cigarette. 

The shallow grave aggravated the anthill 
near the foot of the mulberry tree. 
The lantern trembled as the wind 

intensified from the belly of Mt. Sannine. 
The last of the dogwood twigs smoldered 
and kept the coffeepot warm. 

Father stomped on the white leather, 
yet the eyelets of the shoestrings stared 
back from the mud like a choking snake.

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