search instagram arrow-down


best of HDtS editor's notes fiction interviews nonfiction poetry reviews

Archives by date

Archives by theme

We came upon the maggot sucked bones.
Sticks of rib dust. Buster sniffing the matted
winter thawed grass for what was once life.

Belonging to what a deer must have been —
all fawned and agile jumping through the snow
until coy dogs ran these bones to exhaustion.

I know the way home. Buster is sniffing still. A clue
he looks at me. I say — get awayget away from it.
As if he understands- the smell he cannot translate.

Death is in the field and spring is on its way.
We walk towards the woods where it is darker
the sun refusing to warm our bones.


David R. Bowman received a degree in creative writing from Oakland University, Rochester, Mich. His poems have appeared in The Atlanta Review, Pea River Journal, Badlands, Wayne State Review, and Old Northwest Review, among others.

© 2018, David R. Bowman

Leave a Reply
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: