The Poetry of Joseph Zaccardi

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CUTOUT

On the page a line of ink. And in the line, blood.
Often what the line says wears a mask. So the story goes:
a boy was found out by his father, that he was gay.
In a calm voice, he called his son to come out to the barn.
There was straw on the compacted dirt floor; in the loft
bales of hay and in the hay the movement of some small animals.
The father had his son turn away from him and kneel;
had him bow his head as though they were going to pray
together. Without another word he put a shotgun to the boy’s neck.
Then he walked away. An extraction: cutting reveals what has vanished,
a thing whose presence is its absence.

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