Poem with a Line from Bluets

Maggie Smith

I could bury my face in it, the sad sack of a town

with hair that smells like an animal, bury my face

in its dark fur, wrap my arms around its barrel ribcage

and hold on for dear life. It’s wild but it might

let me near it, sad sack of a town, half acre

with tall grass I could bury my face in. I could lie

and listen to it snuffling beside me. For what should I save

my longing? Forget the afterlife, the aftertown:

there is no knowing what happens beyond this

sad animal, this sack of hair. Forget the golden future

beyond future. I want to see all of it here, all of it

through these eyes, in this animal body, while I am still

discernably myself, while my shadow falls

on this sad sack of a town, this dear life.

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