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Poems

January 2004

Zero hour

by William Logan

Bittern, hawk, and osprey tend
in their private circles near
orders scrawled across the page,
though the willing victims send
postcards to another age
gazing up in fear.

Alligators known to dwell
in the analytic root
theorize about the will.
Frequently consigned to hell,
inconvenient villains still
prepare to shoot.

Will indignant vultures perch,
aiting for the halt and weak
on whose bounty they descend?
In a large and vacant church,
words whose meanings some defend
have yet to speak.


William Logan will have a volume of early selected poems out in the spring
more from this author


This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 22 January 2004, on page 35
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