ward, I compass,
homebound
in the horizontal fold
of contiguous America
of contiguous America
Mississippi my coordinate
axis. Why run upriver
against its stream as if
I could graph
points of loneliness
against solitude
against solitude
Manning
houses collected
against farm fields
contemporary
country of faded
grassways, black
susans, dots
of purple harebell,
thistle, false
susans, dots
of purple harebell,
thistle, false
aster interlaced
or translate times
of contentment back
to one origin?
Why run anywhere
but to the beginning
of breath,
before birth
before birth
breath
connected to lake shore
by such short grained green
exultant inhalation
taking in
taking in
green near tractor ruts
where children are
branched
the low tree
sweeping us
up and down –
wet bodies
set to dry
in the shade
cold cut
sandwiches
apple slices
sandwiches
apple slices
country girls drunk in trails
of alfalfa
such clutch of wildflowers
of breath,
which needs
its atmosphere
mixed
which needs
its atmosphere
mixed
just right
just right
to be a breath
a song of country roads
a necessary check
loneliness
solitude
solitude
empty basket swinging
between child and near-woman
heading home
Midwestern Gothic, Volume 15, Fall 2014