I am a Maine farmhouse. A hunkering cape.
I am the farmhouse, haunted and haunting.
I am the armchair in the wood-stove room of the farmhouse, in whose crook
I once discovered the most complete of all moments,
tilting my head against the wing-backs.
I am the wall of snow, door-shaped in the doorframe.
I am the air that pocked the drift, then kept on blowing.
I am the grave of the livestock veterinarian who once lived in the farmhouse.
I am he, calling
his patients from the paddock.
I am the stonewall that partitioned the paddock.
I’m a sick sheep.
A horse with a gash in its mouth.
Cassie Pruyn is a New Orleans-based poet born and raised in Portland, Maine. She holds an MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars. Her poems and reviews have appeared in or are forthcoming from AGNI Online, ENTROPY, The Normal School, 32 Poems, The Los Angeles Review, The Adroit Journal, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and others. She is currently working on her first poetry collection, and also on a book-length narrative history of New Orleans’ Bayou St. John.
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