RUN

  by Dick Bakken

I spied
a penny. I
did not stop. A snake
hooped down an edgy road.
She cracked me
with a strap of spit. The big fist
of roses closed its ripe eye. Now puff
another slope
and smell that dead star fizzing
love at the ditch. Why
bow only to some thousand-cicada
blur? Snow blazed
my face. You saw the sun
twist seven times. Who
swallowed big pounding on the roof?
Lightning shrieked across her
other hillside. I
sobbed those dogs barking
on and on.