Then there was no more singing.<\/p>\n
All the lights in their throats cut:<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
the protest of evening wolves & black<\/p>\n
bears nuzzling a parched creek for any-<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
thing that might sustain them another<\/p>\n
white-skinned winter, those foreign<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
birds we never learned the names for.<\/p>\n
Invasive,<\/em> my grandfather called them.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Like the silver carp haunting our<\/p>\n local river. Bullfrogs & possums.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He called us natives<\/em> after living<\/p>\n three generations on the same<\/p>\n <\/p>\n hard land it took so much blood<\/p>\n to own. At the end of the path<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the bullet takes to meet the right<\/p>\n body, the right body drops like<\/p>\n <\/p>\n nothing worth losing sleep over.<\/p>\n It\u2019ll cost two men three hours<\/p>\n <\/p>\n to drag it home in one piece.<\/p>\n That wilder silence lasts but<\/p>\n <\/p>\n a brief eternity. Before the unseen<\/p>\n choir shakes the forest. Again,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n the same damn wolves & starlings. Men<\/p>\n still dragging. The season closing.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Its wiry legs kick & quiver in our hands.<\/p>\n Like strings. Song. Our song now to sing.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Invasive, my grandfather called them. \/ Like the silver carp haunting our \/ local river. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":5748,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[889,1683,1686,80],"class_list":["post-5742","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-aquifer","tag-environmental-poetry","tag-invasive","tag-john-sibley-williams"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n