From the air it seems nothing more
than brushstrokes, casual and thoughtless,
a grand-scale scribbled earthwork,
a monster sketch some great artist
left abandoned at a café —
tiny refrigerator, doorless;
door of a house, houseless; tangles
of the unrecognizable commonplace —
not God pointing the way out
of the Garden. But what of this have we
not done to each other, and more? —
a scientist’s dark paper
airplane, thrown by a brute;
children collected in cages;
a world warming to smother us all.
~ Morgan O. H. McCune
Morgan O.H. McCune currently works at Pittsburg State University in southeast Kansas. She is a native Kansan and holds an M.F.A. in Poetry from Washington University in St. Louis (1991) and an M.L.S. from Emporia State University (2002). Her poems have been published previously in River Styx.
Monthly Editor Maril Crabtree’s poems have been published in I-70 Review, Coal City Review, Main Street Rag, and others. Her book Fireflies in the Gathering Dark (Aldrich Press, 2017) is a Kansas Notable Book and Thorpe Menn Award finalist.
Damn good poem!!!
good one, Morgan! Surprised me with where it went! –LLW
Cool poem Morgan!
A powerful poem!