The Gods Who Might Be Geese by Benjamin Cutler
Judge's Choice, 2018 Poetry Contest
These gods are not
migratory. If you prepare
a place for them near
your home and theirs
they will nest there,
overwintering in the silence
of this season—their own
silence as soft and warm
as gray goose down
in cool blue dark.
Darkness like a star-
dappled pond, star-
shine like some kind of grace.
When hunger moves them,
these old gods fly, searching
and settling for the leavings
of our old harvest: making
use of our useless, finding
life in what is dead.
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