Red Rover red rover let Libbey
come over, the voice sang on its
summer jag of desire. It was
dusk and the mothers would
call them home. They always
had to go, there was always loss.
Now he had gone to Anchorage to
mend his life. Faithful are the
northern dogs in their resonance
of ice. This drink with the bite
of sun calls his name. Do you want
to go with us? Up above Denali
they never sleep. God has some
sort of plan. They move along
like caribou in a craze of mosquitoes.