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Second
Place Winner: Fran Bourassa
ACCIDENT ON PINETREE ROAD
There is no god
up in the heavens
You know this.
There arc no reasons
No wrong word or deed
That caused the death of your son.
This too you know.
It's a horrible joke
A cliche you've had to tell over and over
It was a dark and stormy night
There was a slippery road,
a sharp corner. . .
And there is no use taking out
the good linen lines of poetry,
when these are the facts
strung out in front of you
plain as his white shirts
you pinned every Saturday
into the blue sky
you once trusted
and even you realize
the tree they found him in
tangled like a kite
is not to blame.
Now, from his bedroom window
laundry limp on your lap
You watch out for what you cannot see
what, that moves things
No longer believing
it is nothing more
than the anonymous hand of the wind
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