E. G. Burrows

Jeremiah

He came out of the Florida scrub,
his wildcat on a leash.
He sat by the five-mile milestone
and forecast the end of the world.
Dust hung over the glades
to settle among wood storks and herons
dancing the last year of their lives.

A road circled the general store
with its battered porch,
grain-bins and grocery supplies.
Feet up on a barrel of flour,
the philosophers welcomed him.

Drive carefully now
past glass and pebbled cliffs,
past streetlights and gasoline pumps.
An alley-cat snarls in the shadows,
and vagrants who huddle in doorways
reach out a hand to grasp
a dog’s leash, a wildcat’s rusty chain.

E. G. Burrows has published in Blue Unicorn, 
Ship of Fools, Pebble Lake, South Carolina Review, 
and elsewhere. He lives in Washington state.