Poetry by Robyn Schelenz
INTELLIGENCE
The developer seized the land
during blue winter cold
but Jacob’s cows didn’t know.
They returned.
The shepherd placed metal
in his teeth;
grass still grew
for a thousand other mouths.
When I climb the hill
I see a thatch of dandelions
trying to get down.
How small
and parachute-y
like they’re
forgetting something
intentionally.
Robyn Schelenz is from Birdsboro, Pennsylvania. Her work can be found or is forthcoming at Biscuit Hill, Conduit, Grist, Fugue, Permafrost, and R&R, among other places, and she is the author of the chapbook “Natural Healing,” a collection of short poems and odd fables, on Bottlecap Press. She holds an MFA from Saint Mary’s College of California. Read more at her website.
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