And yes,
he seemed callous
as he defeathered the dove
but not for the liquid
that dripped or
the pepper of bird-shot
that felled the bird. He held
his ground against me
despite clearly knowing
he was wrong.

And yes, I
was wrong to yell, and
yes throwing
the lantern
was a poor choice.
One I’d forever
tell myself
was just
an accident.

And yes the barn
was dry that fall.

And yes the dogs
howled around
the fire
in a half-bay-half-cry.

And yes, I wish
with every spare quarter
I find in pocket
or gutter
for a time machine,
some elongated trip
to the past to undo
that arm motion.

And
yes,
the well
has grown
a fortune of silver
off my regret.

---

Zebulon Huset is a teacher, writer and photographer. He won the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and his writing has appeared in Best New Poets, Bombfire, Texas Review, North American Review, Meridian, The Southern Review, Fence and many others. He publishes the prompt blog Notebooking Daily, and edits the journals Coastal Shelf and Sparked.