A permanent home and museum for poets and poetry

Poems by Joan Houlihan


slow and bent-
necked, eyed from the side, is deer.
Through branches hung with bee-nest,
swung, and the swarm
hums the air. At the edge,
one deer holds tall.

Ay want what is not Ay–
furred antler stript to a shine.
Flank. Hoof. Meat.
When the head turns, Ay stand,
aim the spear–to mine.

From Ay, published by Tupelo Press, copyright 2014 Joan Houlihan. Used with permission.