Nathanael Tagg

In Issue 6 on June 6, 2011 at 1:25 pm


I avoided church
and took a walk outside, where a crow
was picking apart a bunny.
Memories emerged, the first one from last year:
children had left their parents during an Easter egg hunt
and found the body of a man who had hanged himself.
Now rain would fall, I thought, just when we needed it.
Yet the sky remained grey, the sidewalk dry, my head full.
And the connection with everything I so loved, usually,
seemed only half-true, even ugly—
till I remembered eating meat for breakfast,
ignoring my mother’s invitation to church and dinner,
yelling like an animal at my partner, whose forgiving touch
later felt angelic after months lacking in intimacy.
That’s when I looked again, yes,
at the bloody beak and the beady eyes
and the body twice ransacked—
but also at the sheen of wings
lifting a thing like me
to the clouds.


Nathanael Tagg teaches writing at the University of Nebraska at Omaha and Metropolitan Community College in Omaha.

  1. Nate has a great visual image and metaphor in the last lines: “the sheen of wings / lifting a thing like me”; very nice turn in the poem to derive the spiritual from the offal of life. Let’s hear more from him.

  2. Lovely work. The ending is stunning.

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