Saturday, December 5, 2009

How the Red River Got Its Name


Dank basement, axes, missing limbs.

The floor creaks above, slow ka-thunks,

something dragged. Sleeping bags,

dim flashlights, a flood of blood in Crookston.

Something burble-burbles in the rusty

plumbing pipes. Young cousins wait

for the story lines: Give me back my liver!

Give me back my liver! The river –

much, much too close to Grandma’s house –

waits for its name.


By Jari Thymian

3 comments:

The Bijou Poetry Review said...

Jari Thymian’s poetry has appeared in Simply Haiku, Ekphrasis, The Christian Science Monitor, The Pedestal Magazine, The Progenitor and in various anthologies. Poems are forthcoming in Margie Review, Alehouse, Chicken Pinata, and Broadsided Press. The Meaning of Barns was published by Finishing Line Press in 2007. She is delighted that one of her poems was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. www.jarithymian.com.

Michele Harvey said...

I really love this poem!

Tabitha Dial said...

Amazing last lines. I admire your dedication to poetry. Thanks for sharing.

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