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a literary journal published by the Black Earth Institute dedicated to re-forging the links between art and spirit, earth and society

Catherine Pierce


Change

Some nights I wish my rage could lupinize me,

my jaw stretched and menacing,

my teeth so fierce I’d no longer care

about the small and tedious details of how

humans try or don’t to keep one another

alive. I could run on wrath,

eyes incandescent and unignorable.

I could rip apart any soft, thoughtless thing.

I am so tired of manners. I’ve been

manacled too long to caution. This country

is a terrible animal, snuffling foolishly

through gardens, uprooting anything

the farmers have carefully sown. Soon

we’ll have no crops to make it through winter.

Watch me changing. It hurts,

but now there is no way back—

I am elongating, I am sprouting hackles

and claws. I see this beast stand upright,

taller than the horses. I see this beast

throw back its head. We howl and howl.

The animal of this country watches,

then turns back to the sweet, tender roots.


This Is How We Keep Going

By the surf, a mussel shell
wedged into wet sand, edge-up.
Someone could cut their foot on that,
I thought, and turned it flat,
while behind me the entire beach
rippled with mussel shells.

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Catherine Pierce is the Poet Laureate of Mississippi and the author of four books of poems, most recently Danger Days (Saturnalia 2020). Her work has appeared in the New York TimesThe Best American Poetry, the Pushcart Prize anthology, and elsewhere. A recipient of fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the Academy of American Poets, she teaches at Mississippi State University.


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