Gone by Bruce Michael Foley

fur

Gone

Cat teeth
crunched kibbles and bits of hard dry food.

You never hear them
come and go to the bowl, but when they chose to
you always knew.

And so it is, dreaming.

Boots along a gravel road, scythe
razor thin in a bloody right hand,
they all cried the same;
swift came a blade slicing the wind.

Their heads they kept, endless caterwauls
fast on the run, bleeding stubs.

And he kept on, gone walking
on crunch of stone, dusty boot heel
on graveled road, no…

It couldn’t be so.

My face, I saw
beneath a hat of fur, collection of cat tails
stitched,
to an old barn coat.

indexI was born across the bridge from Boston, Massachusetts, in Cambridge, as July 4th fireworks exploded over the Charles River, just a stone’s throw from Harvard University. At age two, my family moved to Somerville, Ma.,where I was raised in a rough blue-collar environment, playing many sports. In 1998 I relocated to Las Vegas, Nevada. Here, I work among special needs children and teach martial arts. Poetry began in high school, but took off in a more dedicated way in later years, along with resuming music studies, guitar. My poems are published in various anthologies; including Impressions, Prism, and the Mighty Voices Of Thunder Series, sponsored by the international poetry website, “Allpoetry.” I was a featured poet in Lyrical Somerville February 2015, a Boston based publication, as well as being an “Editor’s Front Page Pick,” for the month of March 2016 on Allpoetry. A defining moment that contributed significantly to further interest in writing was a First Place Award from the International Poetry Fellowship, for my poem, “Among Fields of Cotton.” Presently, I am happy to have the opportunity to explore various forms of poetry with Mr. Bruce Isaacson, Poet Laureate of Clark County Nevada.

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