Trudging along the field road
My dogs snoop the cornrows.
Wells are off, no water running.
Bring your drink along.

Ha! That’s why I’m walking,
Plum faced and sweating,
Away from sluicing my memories
With whatever spirit I can find.

I don’t delight in the harvest,
I feel only death instead.
Nothing left green & growing
Not crop in the row, nor on

My boy’s sweat brimmed cap
Abandoned ‘neath the gloom
Of his empty, unmade bed.
All gone & graduated, he did.

Me and my she-dogs
No one but us bitches
Left home to pray and complain
About what a great job raising him
We did.