Shannon Cuthbert

Considering Circumstances

In the farmhouse on the hill, The brothers move as dancers do, Each motion building to new intricacies. Arms seed fields and carry sacks, Milk cows and wring the necks Of sorry red chickens, come to an end. The oldest brother dreams in maps, Plans out skylines and intricate whorls. His skin blushes in a ceaseless sun. He plots a story with shadow and sin. The youngest, acned, dreams in beauty, Surreal slashes of sky and soil, Painting girls and dogs and trees, Holding apples to the light. The middle dreams nothing at all, His silent body drinks in dark, Some strange flower seeping heat. He remains a stranger always.

Shannon Cuthbert