Thrush Poetry Journal
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Autumn McClintock

MADRID, NM

Kick aside the other bones.

Whatever body it may be, 

bury it. 


Dirt and crag, 

the desert will drain 

like a common sink. 


Lick the sand 

deep caught in teeth

to see if it flavors

or gives way.


All horizons chocked with scrub, 

dotted between with snow. 


Road hewn through

as wagon went, 

crossed by fawn and steer. 


Center strewn and bloodied 

from the red, strange earth, 

we kneel.




Autumn McClintock lives in Philadelphia, works at the public library, and recently has had the good fortune of having poems appear in Redivider, The Collagist, Leveler, anderbo, elimae, and others; an additional piece is forthcoming in Weave Magazine. Her essay, "Responsible for Death" appears in the anthology The Poet's Sourcebook, published by Autumn House Press (no relation) last year. She is a member of the poetry reading staff for Ploughshares.  




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