“Pursue agriculture.” The Rig Veda  “Replenish the Earth.” The Bible

In red dusk a door opens,
a man jumps out of his tractor, takes down his overalls
and lies deep with furrows he has made.

For ten minutes he doesn’t mind his wife or what his sons will say
when they know.
Only the woman in the field matters.
Black furrows braided over her shoulders, the sky painted red
with desire for him.

The woman in the field makes him do what must be done.
The farmer knows
black dirt takes the perfect shape of his hands and of his belly
so the corn comes stiff and green from his seed

and when he finishes his labor, there is the wise tractor silently approving.
There is the sky with no end to it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s