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Editors' Pick

The Demise of Bonnie & Clyde

                     –after the 1967 Arthur Penn film

 Their penance—not yet exacted—
Warm wind, from the open

windows of the pulled-over
canary-yellow Model A Ford.

Clyde flipping the radio dial.
Static. Insects. Chirping.

His shit-eating smile. Silence
sparking through sunlight—

but for a rush of starlings
entrained with the dapple-lit couple

as if—like the fiddlers and floating
brides of Chagall they could lift

through the trees, out of their bodies
just after their moment of fleeting

eye-contact caught—
and before it morphed

into slow-mo crash-test dummies,
choreographed rag dolls—

such rustle and shuffle
under that blue-banged & damn

beautiful sky.  Wind again
too, before the bucolic-bulleting

backdrop took our breath away.
I remember reaching in the dark theatre

for my friend’s hand—
As more birds tolled.



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