Living Green At The Recycling Center Poem by Lee Crowell

the first time I had no eyeballs
just empty sockets
but I could sense the glow of galaxies against my cheek
and lust for the imaginable beauty
like no one before me

the second time I was born the third son
into a large family
we worked the fields and ate ham hocks for dinner
at night we danced in the barn
Dad let us steal moonshine
from his jug

the last time
it was under an eclipse
and I never met my parents
until I was larger than both of them
by the collar
I lifted one from the floor
and with a blade to his throat I screamed
'mother you will never see this man breathe again
unless you leave me be'
the lack of remorse
was complemented by the harshness
of an unwavering arctic air mass