August 3, 2015 / Creative Writing
A poem about the life/death/life cycle of the seasons and those we love.
May 28, 2013
The last/least of me, buried with cares,
shall be first, and vice versa. Go ye.
Tell that gnawing coal fox there’s One coming
who’s casting out devils, making the blind see.
He’s gathering awed children together, hen-like.
The yard, too, shall be spared. The omens are many.
Brett Foster is the author of two poetry collections, The Garbage Eater (2011) and the recently released Fall Run Road, which was awarded Finishing Line Press’s Open Chapbook Prize. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Books and Culture, Cellpoems, Image, Kenyon Review, New Criterion, Pleiades, Poetry Daily, Shenandoah, Southwest Review, Subtropics, and Yale Review.