Goats (excerpt)

Jude Nutter

Down on your knees, you are sifting through the past
with your father; when he leans in you catch the aftermath
of his shampoo and evergreen shower gel and, beneath that,

the deep, familiar combustion of the body—the room
in which we sleep, each one of us, every night of our lives
with the windows closed. Here’s a picture of you in Denmark—

around you, torsos of trees like the long-polished bodies
of brass instruments. How happy you were. And what a shock
to realize you no longer remember what such happiness felt like.

[end of excerpt]

You can read the rest of the poem in Issue 20.1, Winter & Spring 2008.

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