Birches


  We are no better off     than those birches    
in the hard snow     out these frosted windows    

 half umber     as the last of the sun     across the lake     lets go of us    
 
short-lived     quick to burn     jointed like dray-horses     vacant epistolary    
 another snapping Jesus January     to live through     double-sweatered    

by square logs     by Galvalume     by birch fires     confessing     why bother    

 in town     the Silverados nudge up     to the Tim Hortons drive-though    
any hour     for that awful coffee     that tastes like liquid cigarettes    

 off highway 7     a Florida transport     wheels south     down Gore St    

may I fume     at the toadies & liars     who swagger in government     now    
 they have vetoed     the human village mandate     of caring for citizens    

the Samaritan impulse     our lightning rod / pitch-pipe     has been re-wired

 emotionless     re-defined competitive     & press-released     as a perky    
blood-sucking turbine     that hates     farmland     archives     old growth    

 women    discussion     stillness     we are birches     splayed     cold black    
 
it is night     all our premise     appropriated     sneered at     betrayed    
 river by river     mountain by mountain     sea to sea



Phil Hall is surrounded.


Published On: July 1, 2014
Permanent Location: http://www.forgetmagazine.com/140701a.htm




Volume 7, Issue 6
  Canada Day, 2014 





Birches
Phil Hall



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