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She Leaves Me Again, Six Months Later

Collier Nogues
The hillside was blocked 
with pens, horses of other colors 

five or six to a pen, 
and one long fenced strip

from the base of the hill up, 
with dark brown horses flank to flank 

not moving, 
but their necks craning over

each other's backs. 
They were looking towards 

the dip at the top of the hill,
and the stream running through it.

They were looking at what 
was on the other side, 

which was my mother, 
whom I had just walked over the bridge.

Copyright © 2011 by Collier Nogues. Reprinted from On the Other Side, Blue with the permission of Four Way Books.

Collier Nogues

by this poet


The river its balm.
I spend a lot of time

waiting in the car,
nail file dust sifting
onto the gearshift.

Two corner stores gone
and a handle of gin
under the Walk sign.

The gin drinker is
uncertain he’s here.
He’s in the war.

Wind blows