For Uncle Dave
The remnant time closing in.
Barely in the naked light.
The empty chamber howls.
The hollow in the chest.
The only ifs have focused
on the pistol sight.
The eagle’s flaming vision
wavers out and blinds.
The spirit shield is cobwebbed in
behind the shadow’s loom.
He loads each silver silo.
He empties out the rain.
Adamo Sacchetti
He fixes his gaze on the broken
column of a man in him.
He raises his last hand
points at his center—
shot through with a dark thread.
Give way to the wind and rend.
Red widens in the overt light.
Black around him. Davie found him
in the hum of old wiring
slumped, doubled over at the waist,
with a hole in his chest
and the face of a saint.
Kathi Halickmen
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