sample journal 05
by Andy Stallings
I remember a face that I drank like water.
The hot afternoon sky seemed,
at the edges, painted ?
dripping white, hot and crushing
over the pines. Resin spread a net
over the clearing where
we searched for magnetite.
Everywhere, sap slid
imprisoning insects I wouldn’t
even call surprised.
Gramma fixed a drink and one for later, fed us
butter crackers. There were too many fish in that
creek. When I closed my eyes they were all I could
see, slick shadowy torsos rotating, bumping,
It was very quiet.