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Poetry of Issue #8        Page 16


Once in a while You get shone the light
In the strangest of places If you look at it right

       - Robert Hunter

I’ve got a slush pile
six bodies deep.
So my I gotta dig down
in hopes of a rhyme.
But don’t we all
have our work cut out
for us I mean?
Doesn’t some tic of burden,
like a bee in a bonnet,
rasp at all our hearts?
Doesn’t something call us
into service? Good. Bad.
Must polar opposites always collide,
leaving the the experts reeling?
Who knows? Maybe there’s something under Uncle Clive
meant to be more than an errant clue.
A chronic hint. A slap in the face to Aunt Meg
and her whole side of the story.
I don’t know. I do know I’m painting
myself into a corner w/this one
but somehow, as day rises w/birdsong
I don’t give a damn. I’ve broken my bounds
for an instant, so who am I to cry?

  Mike Jurkovic