One Final Word

Leslie Lindsay

(Chicago )

The cows have spread out and I’ve counted
fourteen. No, seventeen.
Their heads hang low, they don’t need to look up
Like us. Until
they do. Curious, as if asking: what line
are you from?
Perhaps they know we will all die, because here
the sky
is made up of nothing but the molecules of
______. [ancestors]
At the beginning, our family tree was made up
of _____. [wanderlust]
The white pick-up truck went from one
up _____. [hill] ridge and
back down the other, families blowing
one part [always] snapping
in the wind. Once we had seventeen cows and now
we have [descendants]. Which part
am____. [I]
[Now?]

Download:

Leslie Lindsay

is a

Guest Contributor for Panorama.

Leslie is a poet, memoirist, and visual artist living in the Greater Chicago area. Her work focuses on home, ancestry, and rootedness. Learn more: www.leslielindsay.com

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