Aaron McCollough


The family goose
beside the road – a yard of windows – panes all broken out and frames all laid upon an-
          other. Long grass and crazy plantain.

If winter comes.
The rain for hours in the wood and greasily on the wood, which goes at a joint:
          rail creeping away from rail along an iron dowel.

The road bears hard
around the rise. The grass succeeds from roadside under foot and the goose’s feather
          slick to one wide leaf below a rachis and through the cover.

The trees aligned and unaligned – the live-oaks knotted into one – fill with ticks and
          resurrection fern.