Andrews, Tom 1997
with Margaret Gibson
October dusk.
Pink scraps of clouds, a plum-colored sky.
The sycamore tree spills a few leaves.
The cold focuses like a lens. . .
– Tom Andrews, “At Burt Lake”
Listen to Tom Andrews’s Poetry Center reading with Margaret Gibson:
Read Tom Andrews’s poem, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Strangled Moose:”
Tom Andrews Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Strangled Moose
Seven men, a pale woman and a dog Circle the indoor, rubberized track Like strangled moose. Orpheus rolled through his sleep. Eurydice read a popular novel, a period piece Involving a ménage a trois And the strangling of a moose. Dear Mr. Farnsworth, I’m sorry. I swear the black elk looked Like a black moose.
There is a sleep like the long dissolve
of bone into brown dirt. The nurse carries
a paper cup, a syringe of that sleep…
– Tom Andrews, “Codeine Diary”
Continue reading this poem in Tom Andrews’s book, The Hemophiliac’s Motorcycle⇒
