From “Fall Line”

(Sailor’s Creek, 1865)

You,    from the North or some other
country you’ve entered
phantom land            you     makeshift
stained kitchen table disembodied
feet mackerel heap in a barrel severed
arm over there stiff hand
grasp air         the State police ran
tests    it’s real human
              You     every single
one of you in this place this
day want a spell to make you
him or her hiding     biding

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