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On hearing of my cousin Tom's death. (poem)

From: The Literary Review  |  Date: 3/22/1995  |  Author: Short, Gary

The damp plant breath near the marsh releases the odor of ammonia. Bluebottle flies swarm the bad meat of a dead muskrat. Bingo, the patched black & white mutt, splashes into the water & a confusion of blackbirds scatters out of the reeds. Tommy says, "I love that dog. He's never lied to me." Tommy's face is red & bumpy with acne. His tennis shoes don't match.

I watch him put down the fishing gear & flush a frog from the weeds. The frog is the size of my hand, a six-year-old's hand. ...

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