Posts tagged: poem
Rain pours from the sky
for all the listless doorbells
to watch in the night.
when no one else
will bother them,
while the world of their dreams
is sleeping in the street
the old men gather
at Starbucks.
They talk politely,
one at a time, making
little speeches.
I overhear mention
of wars and floods, and
the time the cow got out.
One of them does not talk this morning
of the nightlong dancing and the
small kiss she gave him,
the things he never can forget.
He’s quiet,
simple and composed, a soldier
stung with dreaming.
1.
The night before, lightning
to make the summer wheat quiver,
the night sky pulling the high plain
closer to her expansive breast.
The pup tent, abandoned after
hours—maybe minutes—of
bravery, left to soak
alone in the yard while I,
small, sleep inside the farmhouse.
2.
The window flies wake up.
Most of them.
3.
The canola field electrifies
the air with a yellow glow as I,
shoeless, step along the still damp dirt
to an unspoiled row of honeysuckle.
Later, the abandoned barn.
Black rubber tubes on the endless Milk River.
A hunt for vermin.
Stalks of Rhubarb to chew
for hours.
4.
Gravel pokes my feet. I raise my
shoulders to absorb the sting
of each step.
I approach the gopher, shot,
shaking, her split stomach spilling
freshly clipped grass,
the warm wood of the rifle
and its hot black muzzle
in my hand.
