neandertal lament

david pishery
the heavy sheets
of ice and snow
have closed the pass

goats no longer bound
among the rocks
looking for edibles


I throw the last
of my spears
into the fire

my woman doesn't move
or speak anymore
when I call her name

a stillborn infant
covered in ochre
sleeps in the ground

soon the white face
will rise again
over the hill