Smithereens Press Chapbooks Taking the Oath by Tom French | Page 14

Taking the Oath

The next night I waited
at the same spot.
When they came,
we crossed that field
into the next. I heard
a pond, the water bird
our coming frightened,
a rake of ducks
that took off,
screeching into the night.
When we stopped
I repeated what was said
to me, promising
my life, and, after,
thought more often
of the ducks, of how
tenderly, from field
to field, they’d led me,
than of the life I’d
taken on, or given up.

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