That one waters
his mortgaged field
& becomes the water.
Another drinks the water
dissolving into drills.
The quickest one coffins
into the trench with his wife.
They are there so long
a plow gives them last rites.
A child is born on that
hottest day in mid-strike.
He swallows the crop
& waddles away a god.
Without any fuel workers
sell their own steam.
Their labors are packed
into a papoose & carried
off. One of them pours
the water onto his rags.
The rest of them catch
the wringed water
in their mouths.
:: Rodney Gomez, in Devil's Lake (Spring 2012)
No comments:
Post a Comment