Little Elegy (26)
by Jordan Reynolds
Not to scare you, but the telephone
wires have arrived on the back of a
goddess. See, the hands of Aphrodite
are not the color of chipped marble,
but they’re close. The linemen are like
bears only because they don’t have
too rough skin, but their feet spike the
pine all the way to the sky and higher.
Not to scare you, but I found a popinjay
curled in some baling wire in the shed
and its eyes had been eaten out.
The ants rushed away
gory and in perfect military rows.
Little Elegy (3)
The bee boxes are beginning.
Father’s been going in his white
suit and we’ve honeyed everything.
Each day I sweep the hall
of their crumpled frames, the ones
that make it in from the field.
They have hair, you know.
They have legs and everything.
But most often their wings
have already gone somewhere.
I check his shoulders
each time we pass.
Originally from Sacramento, California, Jordan Reynolds is an MFA candidate at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. He has published poems in Poetry Midwest, The Pedestal Magazine, The Sacramento News and Review, Sage Trail, hardpan, Interim, The Suisun Valley Review, zero ducats and elsewhere. His broadside Wind Physics was released by Rattlesnake Press in 2008. He is currently a poetry editor for Narrative Magazine .