Dubuque Street

If this were my lawn I would stand here staring
at the gray clouds moving across the small moon.

I would watch the flutter on the furthermost leaf
behind the rainspout and the crumbling brick.

I would plan the next twenty years without flinching,
one knee in the tomatoes,

one knee in the cement,
my hands all black from dreaming and digging and praying
in the soft dirt.

:: Gerald Stern, Leaving Another Kingdom (1984)

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