After the First Death
The road is still beside the cat,
an axle still coring the twisting
world, core sample of glassine
memory, moments fogged hazy
like breath on ice or flies clouding.
Cloudless skies, days of skies,
flashbulb smashing pieta Texas
holding up a child, him a cat;
the cat teems. Years of this, Tom,
reams of sun blanched pages,
the image, the death of it, surmised.
Letters line like ants, white
space between maggots, reviles.
Words squirm to find the truth of it;
it flies, stutter stops tearing, torn, melt flesh,
flash balloon. Kneel to him. Return. Revise.
Anthony Rintala is an English instructor in southern Indiana. His poetry has most recently been published in Kudzu Magazine, Muse: A Quarterly Journal, Ishaan Literary Review, Oklahoma Review, Copperfield Review, A Few Lines Magazine, Mad Hatter’s Review, Foundling Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, and St. Ann’s Review.