Published: July 10, 2010 [49 copies]
[ S O L D O U T ]
Daniel Nathan Terry is a former landscaper and horticulturist. His debut full-length poetry collection, Capturing the Dead, won the Stevens Poetry Prize and was published in 2008 by NFSPS Press. His poems have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Poet Lore, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The MacGuffin, and The Cafe Review. Daniel received his MFA in Creative Writing from UNC-Wilmington in 2010.
Scarecrow crafter, burlap tailor,
black-eye smudger, when I’m done,
crows mistake you for a man:
silent shooer, stock-still farmer,
to them alone a tartan terror.
I fisted through your flannel,
spiced your straw with artemesia,
puffed your chest with wilted-rue,
perfumed your thighs with summer sweet–
another half-attempt at love–and to keep
the flies from you, who do not care
if you are flesh or straw; stand still in June,
they will devour you. If they don’t and you see
the summers through, the sun, the wind, the rain
make fast work of you until your pie-pan hands
cease to flutter and the crows
begin to mutter that you can’t be much.
Winter comes, now the squash begins
to earn its name, cold snaps beans.
Like tomatoes that turn from green to glass
my red for you is missing.
How long before the snow and I
take you down?
a sample poem by Daniel online: