The News

The News

POETRY

By Kyle D. Craig

If any­thing
must fall
on us, let it

be morning.
Tonight’s
stories strike

like knives
through
thick bone.

I still cannot
name half
the places

where bombs
knelt last night.
I know

not every­one
has access
to ocean views,

for many
no forest waits
to wander

through, not
a single sycamore
from which

to draw
shade. I crave
smaller news:

a chick­adee
found a feeder.
An old woman

lifted her bow
to the cello.
A black lab

lying
motionless
in the median

was just
a shredded
tire.

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 18.

Photo by Tim Mossholder.



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