Dana Goodyear, “Quail”

Quail (from danagoodyear.com) Dana Goodyear What the heart, unsteady and ill, is supposed to do. And does: fly in missing-man formation, resettle too nearby, then scatter to confuse, fleeing like one who secretly wants catching. Hides to die. But doesn’t come to nothing: ends a block of bony, vesselled ice heaving, frostbit, in the chest. […]

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