Log Cabin Chronicles



The shot wounds the wild duck
that rises from the rice field
in low awkward flight
over the muddy river's waters.

The smell of meat drops
in rivulets of blood
onto small waves.

A voracious battallion
of red, black and white fish attacks.
Blood blooms like a hibiscus
and feathers float away.

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Copyright © 1996 Rosa Clement/Log Cabin Chronicles/07.96