Mark Turcotte

Once tried to kill it,

the dark animal
pacing In my chest
with all my demons
around its tail.

I built a fire
in the back yard,
burned eighteen years
of words,
watched notebooks
curl into ash
and spiral bones.

The Growler,
writhing inside,
ripped me open,

pushed out a hesitant claw
and began to sing.

From The Feathered Heart, Michigan State University Press.
© 1995 Mark Turcotte
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