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Sentinel
- University of Iowa Press
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51 Sentinel Its throat turned white when they threw seed between the soapstone and I watched a branch dip in the night as if to put a character on its throat. Today, they killed the bird and put a notch in the windward side of a bamboo stalk to call to its mate. I picked a green apple pricked with a boar’s tooth from the ashes; each time snow fills the hole in the apple, I’ll return a tooth to the body of the boar. Ahead of me they are casting teeth, in the bite marks on their bodies, with falling snow. They are cursing at the dogs. ...