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/ Pribet


by Paul Willis

The nursery at the foot of the hill
does not sell privet—it sells pribet.
As if the hedge were a croaking frog

in a bend of the ribber.  Eberything
I know suggests they hab got it wrong, 
but I pay cash for my fibe-gallon bucket

of pribet, dribe home, dig a bery deep 
dibot in the earth, plant it firmly,
and lib happily eber after.  The end. 

Paul Willis

About Paul Willis

Paul Willis is a professor of English at Westmont College in Santa Barbara, California.  He has published six collections of poetry, the most recent of which are Deer at Twilight: Poems from the North Cascades (Stephen F. Austin State University Press, 2018) and Little Rhymes for Lowly Plants (White Violet Press, 2019).  He is also the author of an eco-fantasy novel, The Alpine Tales (WordFarm, 2010), and of the essay collections Bright Shoots of Everlastingness (WordFarm, 2005) and To Build a Trail (WordFarm, 2018).

Cold Mountain Review is published once a year in the Department of English at Appalachian State University. Support from Appalachian’s Office of Academic Affairs and College of Arts and Sciences enables CMR’s learning and publications program. The views and opinions expressed in CMR do not necessarily reflect those of university trustees, administration, faculty, students, or staff.