Can you relate to death being so utterly insignificant that you would do what you wanted to do?
and then darkness.
The garden waited restlessly
an old Farmall A chugged
the violent soil
the corn was face high and we watched
through bent stalks
my mother screaming and I swear
he was laughing
as he hammered that go stick home.
Mother saw screams
but we knew better and the clouds
started to twist their green fury
over the top of the painted valley.
He couldn't walk
but he could ride that old tractor
like he had legs
that were not stunted and crooked and crippled
and he was laughing and we knew it
so we let him plow that field with our fingers crossed
and our hearts in our necks
and she stopped screaming
as she watched.