Saturday 9 April 2022

Four Poems by Steve Sibra


 

1.  BLIZZARD AT BEAR’S PAW BASE CAMP

 

I pile rocks on her

to hold her down

 

tight as chimney smoke,

cattle who huddle against season

 

slaughter takes the weakest link

like gravity shrugging chains

 

cold air sings below her belly

she bloats, begins to rise

 

ragged kiss of white

savage tongues of winter

 

she humps mountain’s top,

faithless, she craves the sea

 


ARK 

 

A skeleton

hanging

from a sycamore

tree

 

in my back yard

each time

I look for it

I see

 

It turns gentle

on tiny

breeze

sun, season

greys the bone

 

no one

else can see

I know

it comes for me

 

it is a vessel

ship on a sea

it bides its time

like a bride for me

 

when the moon ripens

I must climb inside

to rule or ruin

I will ride.

 


CATCH MY BREATH

 

Lies buried six feet

locked in dead lungs

in prairie graves

 

should you die

on the plains

truth or lie on lips

 

wind will not touch you

gives no voice to claims

of poor or rich

 

no word of escape

between centre and surface

behind dirt’s door 


 

4.  THE MAN WHO WASHED OFF HIS CLOWN

 

“It is my dream”

he said,

his tailfeathers drooping

 

“Room for an ironing board,

a Murphy bed,

a window to see the snow”

 

“There will be space enough

to bake an apple pie,

but not enough to eat it.”

 

He was only sad

when he put

the make-up on.


Steve Sibra is from the tiny town of Big Sandy, Montana (current population around 600).  The isolation and agrarian nature of his early life have contributed significantly to his writing.  Recent publications include Chiron Review, ONE Art, and Flint Hills Review.  Steve's book of poetry, SHOES FOR BABY, is forthcoming from Swallow Publishing.  He resides in Seattle with his wife Stacey.  Steve is known internationally for his expertise in the field of vintage American comic books.

 

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