[Moonshiners all night along the ridge swinging]


Moonshiners all night along the ridge, swinging their lanterns like cow tails. Thinking instead of a cattle herd takes none of the edge away. I tell you the night bears its blade in sound & sight, the hilt itself the weight of your own body, a grain sack across your shoulders. The crisp snap in darkness could be the broken twig of one approaching, or it’s a vision of her snapping pole beans in the garden. The prickle on my back could be what warm memory feels like, or any number of night’s haunts hunting my head.

KEVIN WEIDNER hails from Missouri and currently lives in Tuscaloosa, where he is pursuing an MFA in creative writing at the University of Alabama. He edits the online journal 751 magazine.