Scott Simpson · Poetry
The Cold Stone Barn
Where the Growth Begins · printed pages 99–99
All poetryThe original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.
Source page 99
The Cold Stone Barn
smells of wet soil
and old manure
the mice have burrowed
through the brown-gold hay
the dead cat is missing
an eye
from 40-foot rafters
a rope swings its
rusty pulley
sun fingers oil cans
through gaps in the roof
the mare stamps once
lifts her long head
over the gate
in the buzzing of flies
the taste of hay
in my teeth
I watched the rope twist
hour upon hour
WHERE THE GROWTH BEGINS
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