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Poem of the Week by Teresa Peipins

By Teresa Peipins

Hunters fill the forest now, They climb slats up trees, bows arched, in wait. The past gone wet and red, where corn grew and Holsteins grazed their bells clang coming to be milked, each called by name. My hands stiffen not from milking, those labors lost, but keyboard clicks. Each one takes me further from wet loam under fingertips, leaves falling to earth. TERESA PEIPINS will join poets Martha Deed and Eric Evans at the next Just Buffalo Literary Café at 7:30 p.m. on Wednesday at the Center for Inquiry, 1310 Sweet Home Road, Amherst. A Western New York native, she currently teaches at the Savannah College of Art and Design, Atlanta campus. This poem is from her forthcoming collection “The Shadow of Silver Birch” to be published later this year by Black Rose Press. Her previous books include “Dance the Truth” (Saddle Road Press, 2014) and the chapbooks “Box of Surprises” and “A Remedy of Touch.”