Leveler Poetry Journal
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I watched a boy

grow into a man

and became sad.


He was born

in Iowa where

it’s so cold and

snakes don’t

need a reason

to come out

of the corn.


People hunt

animals there.

Boys learn to

shoot early

and identify

themselves by

the blood on

their hands.


I held a heart

once. A real

one. I stood

over a kitchen

sink with my

thumbs pressed

into the purple tissue.


It smelled like rain.

Kristin LaFollette