LARRY’S ANECDOTAL EVIDENCE 89
I stood on that busted mill house porch
Watching the full moon inch through a walnut tree,
Listening to the river re-finding rocks
Over and over below the concrete dam.
Finally, I pushed the door open slowly,
Knowing he might be sitting the dark
In his overalls, a shotgun across his lap,
But there was naught and I walked
The front room through,
Kicking an overturned cat bowl,
My boot crunching something gravelly.
In the back room I saw two pairs of eyes,
A diapered walking baby and a young girl
In a burlap dress with matted blond hair,
Both of them pale, weasel faced.
Where’s your pappy, I said, but she just
Looked at me like she didn’t know words
While I searched for something that might
Be worth taking and found nothing.
Back on the porch, I saw her haunted face
Watching me through the one window,
And the moon had climbed to the top
Of the walnut tree where it nested
Like a whole ‘nother world of spun gold.