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A constellation of mint

By Kevin McLellan

The blur of
bodies

scattering

 

the street

the town center //
the obelisk                              and dust
                                                     particles
                                                     profiled by
                                                     the sun              

 

      *

                                                     Nightfall
and the curfew //                  the sound of
                                                     running feet

many other feet
and the barking

      *

Under the sun

scorching
bed sheets
on the sides of homes

heavy air
scent of mint

 

the neighbors
whisper (inquisitive boy

                                                        not since
//Sunday)

 

       *

The young man
his
underground press

 

                                                     lamb
                                                     for his mother
at the public market //      he leaves
                                                     left

disappeared

 

                              

Added: Monday, July 21, 2014  /  McLellan's poem took Third Place in the Split This Rock 2012 Poetry Contest. We are grateful to Naomi Shihab Nye, judge of the 2012 contest.
Kevin McLellan

Kevin McLellan  is the author of Tributary (Barrow Street, 2015), Round Trip (Seven Kitchens, 2010), and [box] (Letter [r] Press, 2016). He won the 2015 Third Coast Poetry Prize and Gival Press’ 2016 Oscar Wilde Award, and his poems have appeared in journals including: American Letters & Commentary, Colorado Review, Crazyhorse, Kenyon Review, West Branch, Western Humanities Review, Witness, and several others. Kevin lives in Cambridge, MA.

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