Always the Light
A lantern brought from the sky in the girl's hand on the road at night
and a pail half full with earthworms inching and flipping around a
shovel, always rain passed from cloud to gulch, the great absorption,
the fleeting visited upon the many, always the stilled air lying its
calm, a mint leaf chewed in crags of teeth, mud slopped across her
boots, always the wolf pricking its ears before placing its eye on the
form, always two scrawny wrists over lantern and pail, swinging wrists
of wonder, always magnificent breath halted bellydeep in the waist,
always a halt in the wolf before bolting, always the mange patterned on
the figure, always a vast light held up to fields, the wolf's trot
retreating into weeds that stand like toothpicks, like shadows, like
Eric Higgins has work in or coming from Conjunctions, Zone 3, The Greensboro Review and others. He's a doctoral
student at the University of Houston.
Detail of painting on main page courtesy
Detail of painting on main page courtesy of LeoDrawings.