Poetry
Iowa Perspective
Sean Whalen
issue five
I see you up there six miles high.
If I take an exacto blade,
cut around the perimeter of the township’s
perfect square, raise the block on end,
the soil with its fringe of roots will just graze
the bottom of the plane.
No matter. You fly over
this country whether it’s vertical
or horizontal. Looking down
a plain is a pane. Fences are stitches.
A knife viewed on edge appears dull
until you are cut with it.
About the Author
Sean Whalen lives in rural Boone County, Iowa, where the Laurentide ice sheet ground to a halt and bison once roamed on kettle and kame. He is a retired health and safety professional, current volunteer fire chief, and received his MA from Iowa State University in Creative Writing. Recent poems have appeared in multiple publications, including Last Leaves, The Ocotillo Review, Unbroken, New Feathers, Stone Poetry Quarterly, Thimble, Assignment Magazine, MMOJ, The Avenue Journal, Right Hand Pointing, The Chiron Review, Songs of Eretz, Steam Ticket, Gyroscope Review, Canary, and others.
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