Ode to Small Towns

This where all the roadside memorials are,

pink wreaths and dirty teddy bears.

This where a man walked when he wanted to fly.

This is where he lay down and later died.

This where the train tracks folded the town in half.

This where the man who died loved a woman,

that's his heart you hear, not the train.

This where I ran the dream-colored woods

and did not know why. This where I believe

a dog is buried. This where I danced

in the long moonlight of a field.

This where a woman planted ghost peppers.

This where she thin her blood with root water.

This where you can see the whole town.

This where the moon never goes.

This where my grandmother hid some dreams.

This where my dead may have met.

This where they'll bury me.

This where I shot a bird from smoke-smelling sky.

This where it fluttered, fell.

Copyright Credit: Tyree Daye, "Ode to Small Towns" from Cardinal. Copyright © 2020 by Tyree Daye. Reprinted by permission of Copper Canyon Press, www.coppercanyonpress.org.

Source: Cardinal (Copper Canyon Press, 2020)