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Mason-Dixon Lines P O E T RY B Y T O M A N D R E W S 1 In fits and starts, Lord, our words work the other side of language where you lie if you can be said to lie. Mercy upon the priest who calls on you to nurture and to terrorize him, for you oblige. Mercy upon you, breath's engine returning what is to what is. Outside, light swarms and particularizes the snow; tree limbs crack with ice and drop. I can say there is a larger something inside me. I can say, "Gratitude is a strange country." But what would I give to live there? 2 Something breaks in us, and keeps breaking. Charity, be severe with me. Mercy, lay on your hands. White robes on the cypress tree. Sparrows clot the fence posts; they hop once and weave overleaf: "Outside, light swarms / and particularizes the snow. . . " Photograph courtesy of the Collections of the Library of Congress. 84 SOUTHERN CULTURES, Summer 2005 : Tom Andrews through the bleached air. Lord, I drift on the words I speak to you-- the words take on and utter me. In what
Southern Cultures – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jun 1, 2005
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