Christian Hawkey

(1969 / Hackensack, NJ)

Hour

I was lying on my side, in a ditch,
soaking my flanks in bog water
with my head propped up, on an elbow,
highway a few inches from my nose.
Semis thundered past. The grass
flattened its ears. My body shook.
I was humming a song. This was my spot.
Tadpoles are a form of punctuation.
Frogs hide inside commas. A whooping crane

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