In Oxford Cemetery
Louis E. Bourgeois
You thought because
the trees moved
and the stones didn’t
you understood
the meaning of the wind.
Landscape
Louis E. Bourgeois
All things on the horizon
begin to fade. Balanced
fields lie in the distance
and lakes diminish
in too much sun exposing
the hills for what they are.
At Home in the 21st Century
Louis E. Bourgeois
The same azaleas
bloom along the ditch.
The live oak in
the front yard still
touches the ground
with its dark branches.
Crows fly in the
same sky chasing
the same hawks.
Carp still feed
on the green minnows
in the shallow pond
in the backyard.
The dust keeps
drifting in the air.
The same wind keeps
blowing through the pines.
What the Grass Said
Louis E. Bourgeois
Although you eat us
down to the roots,
little goat,
we will grow stronger,
from drinking your blood,
after the sacrifice.
Ducks
Louis E. Bourgeois
My first memory is of water.
Dark birds flew over the lake
and my grandfather is pointing
to the sky, at the horizon,
yes, there is much on the horizon,
mallards and dogres falling into the lake
out of the November dawn of 1973.
Damascus
Louis E. Bourgeois
Blood on the cypress
and the wild dogs
have broken through the gate.
Afterimage
Louis E. Bourgeois
I see my father walk
through the tall
rozo cane for the last time.
He makes a bundle
after every twelfth cane
and ties the cottonstring
down without slack.
Our blind will be strong
against the north wind--
as dogre, widgeon, and teal
fall like so much
bread from the sky.
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