Seduva

We learned what to unscrew, shield and bury
what we learned—memory ground by plated
truck. If we are dispatched for outside
labor, lucky. There is the breeze there
and if by chance God might spin a needle
of pine unto our boot, so recall Spring
what mushrooms poison us, the red currants
lining the road prove sweetest, my fiddle
for which my hand was mold, the worn saddle 
on the horse that forgot how to run away.




________________________________________

Jake Levine is Poetry Editor at Spork Press. He is from Tucson but currently lives in Seoul in the R.O.K. He spent 2011 in Lithuania as a Fulbright Scholar. He most recently had worked published in EOAGH, Paragraphiti, and Spiral Orb. He has work forthcoming in Handsome. His internet self lives at picklebus.com