Roy Herndon Smith
I can get right down to the end of the town and be
back in time for tea.—A. A. Milne
It’s not enough to
say light bends and space curves and
time can, but doesn’t
run backwards—not here
anyway. Beyond belief,
the cows don’t come home.
The chickens do, but
maybe that’s just another
story she told us
once upon a time.
I said, “Just the facts, Mom,” and
she went to the end
and didn’t come back
in time, but memory does,
making it up as
God does with the void.
The cows out there somewhere fart.
Civilization
farts. It’s hot. Tea’s iced.
The table’s set. Mom’s not here.
But the chicken’s are.
dust 