Angie Macri
GOD, NOT FROM THE SAME ROOT WORD AS GOOD
There is no forgiveness for a dog that kills livestock,
only the gun, as it should be. The herd trusts us,
and a dog won’t stop once it starts killing. All children
know this, all young creatures, lambs, foals, calves,
running with their mothers until breath leaves them.
What kind of dog would kill the animals it should be defending?
What kind of god would allow it? A god won’t stop
once it starts killing. All mothers know this, running
with their children. The man raises a gun to his shoulder.
ANGIE MACRI is the author of Sunset Cue (Bordighera, 2022), winner of the Lauria/Frasca Poetry Prize; and Underwater Panther (Southeast Missouri State University, 2015), winner of the Cowles Poetry Book Prize. An Arkansas Arts Council fellow, she lives in Hot Springs.
ISSUE FOURTEEN features poetry by Austin Araujo, Rae Armantrout, Aaron Baker, David Baker, Cal Bedient, John Berryman, Daniel Borzutzky, Izzy Casey, Colby Cotton, Cortney Lamar Charleston, Yongyu Chen, William Virgil Davis, Maggie Dietz, Kirsten Kaschock, David Kirby, Virginia Konchan, Timothy Liu, Airea D. Matthews, Ted Mathys, Erika Meitner, Olatunde Osinaike, Mary Ruefle, Natalie Shapero, Jordan Stempleman, and Matthew Tuckner; fiction by Tyler Barton, Elizabeth Hart Bergstrom, Tom Howard, and John Dermot Woods; nonfiction by Emmeline Clein, Aryn Kyle, David Stuart MacLean, and Justin Quarry; and Airea D. Matthews in conversation with Devon Walker-Figueroa.