January 10, 2015
The metal jackets of bullets
rust in the dark river
beyond the weaving grass.
Lightning bugs rise up
in their landscape gaping
with old graves overgrown.
Tractor guts rot and ripped
up soil becomes nutritious.
No echoes, no partition,
the local people still know
the same roads they did
as children, still the fruit trees
still stone and paving
still armistice in the evening.
Maia McPherson is a graduate of the Bread Loaf School of English, which first brought her to New Mexico in the summer of 2009. Since that time, she has returned for long and short stays, always finding herself inspired by its landscape and people. Maia is of Croatian decent, and has traveled extensively throughout the Balkans. Currently, she is a visual arts teacher in Boston Public Schools.
Responses to “Mercury Poetry: The woods eat war and forget it”