April 25, 2013
The Antelope Tree

It killed you to see it—not the tree

but the antelope leg dangling

from it, part star, part scar,

cached, perhaps, by a big cat

from the hills. A deer not fifty yards

from it, grazing off Sheep Mountain

Road. Wood ticks must be grumbling

her flesh. The live animal,

or the dead one? You are neither

alive nor dead, you think,

the almost-full moon firing

the pines, one day from whole, one chunk

either side of complete. Something eating

its light, or feeding it.


—George Kalamaras   (Allen County)

This poem previously appeared in George Kalamaras’s chapbook, The Mining Camps of the Mouth, New Michigan Press, 2012, and winner of the New Michigan Press/DIAGRAM chapbook contest.  It also appeared in the journal Hunger Mountain.


George Kalamaras has published thirteen collections of poetry, including Kingdom of Throat-Stuck Luck (2012, winner of the Elixir Press Poetry Prize), The Mining Camps of the Mouth (2012, winner of the New Michigan Press/DIAGRAM chapbook contest), and The Theory and Function of Mangoes (2000, winner of the Four Way Books Intro Prize). He is Professor of English at Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne, where he has taught since 1990.

Indiana Humanities is posting a poem a day from Indiana poets in celebration of National Poetry Month.

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