The Spell
Oser, Lee
The Spell Lee Oser Old trucks and blackberries, Tracks and flutes of grass, A boy among them on a bike Laughing through buckteeth. The steeple broods Like a pregnant man Where spurred by summer...
...Roses blur in sunlight...
...Underground the sewers Debouch on the narrow creek...
...Slone cuts the beveled sky...
...Splits from himself Where the blacktop's smooth Then stops and turns Toward his mother's house...
...The bodiless air rings...
...He vaults the curb In a devil of wind To see the bike sail On the curtained glass...
...A fence infolds a field...
...Silence mirrors silence Rising in a wave...
...He crosses And casually loops Script e's and l's Down to the school In which time seems to sleep...
...Unblinking eyes ascend From earth on shadow wings...
...Peals of rainfall Swell from the streetpipes...
...Spun from a wheel A spray of gravel Glimmers in whiteblack Drops...
...The steeple broods Like a pregnant man Where spurred by summer He slips its gaze And glides straight through The lock-step crowd As if earth herself Had shrouded him...
Vol. 124 • February 1997 • No. 4
