A gift of Island poetry

CROW PISS: A PANTOUM | Chris Bailey

Curated by Deirdre Kessler

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CROW PISS: A PANTOUM

Sit and listen, and your father will tell you
how it is. Up before
crow piss. Before daylight breaks
between the branches. Get up and see

how it is. Up before
your brothers who sleep shit-faced.
Between the branches, get up and see
the ocean, the world that birthed your grandfather,

your brothers who sleep shit-faced
till noon. Day half done and they’re in the hay.
The ocean, the world that birthed your grandfather,
it wells in the lungs. Keeps you still

till noon. Day half done and they’re in the hay.
Crow piss. Before daylight breaks.
It wells in the lungs, keeps you still.
Sit and listen. Your father will tell you.

Chris Bailey. What Your Hands Have Done. Nightwood Editions, 2018.

Deirdre Kessler selects a poem a month by an Island poet for The Buzz.

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