Parable of the Family
Cry me a river
And build a bridge
Over it and then burn
That bridge, then text the
Bridge Bureau and complain
That the bridge is out then drink up
An ocean and pick your teeth with a Douglas
Fir then fan your fanny with those wind turbines
That freak us all out in what used to be open horizons
Of Utah-Montana where we freely played sending optimistic
Messages by extant Passenger pigeon, whirled their feathers in
Up dried creeks under skies so beautiful blue vast and numerous and
Besieged we feared we don’t deserve them only to trudge back to your snarl
That was once a brave ass smile but is now gimlet-eyed, daiquiri-eyed and we enter
With two broken tablets, throw down, your power vanquished, and no one misses it more than us.
Merridawn Duckler is a poet, playwright from Portland, Oregon. She’s the author of Interstate, forthcoming from dancing girl press. She has recent work published or forthcoming in Gris-Gris, Juked, Jet Fuel Review, Ninth Letter and the anthology Climate of Opinion: Sigmund Freud in Poetry. Her fellowships/awards include Writers@Work, NEA, Yaddo, Squaw Valley, SLS in St. Petersburg, Russia, Southampton Poetry Conference, Wigleaf Top 50 in micro-fiction. She’s an editor at Narrative and at the international philosophy journal Evental Aesthetics.
