Index by Author

The Dubose and Dorothy Heyward Society Prize, Winter 2014
Ethan Fugate
Flight 17 (from Nouveaux Contes de Fées)
the air so still at sunset    		musical staves written    		cells alive with energy 
condensation trails of jets   		in pink chalk hover       		pooling over apologies
linger parallel to one another		The Moon a half note rises		and smoke and blood

engine noises push through    		exploding inward          		the dreaming bee welcomes
disappear into flesh      		exploding always              		every moon to the hive
open up the other side    		exploding hopeful             		the air so still

decay of now decoy        		said with wages of blood       		peaceful jets ripping sky and 
marble posturing             		expertise in swarms singing		flesh human pilots desperate	
a field plowed under          		definite concrete shrapnel		for anything but flight

what our government needs     		what I just said is violent		to fully expect to fall
what matters to consumers     		to people past violent to bee		into a field from on high
what is perceived is broken    		absent flowers violent       		wreckage amongst flowers

©2014 Ethan Fugate