PoetryAloud
L.L. Barkat Reads
Return to Sloansville
I close my eyes
blot out one hundred and fifty shale driveways pickup trucks, Ford pintos, trailers barely tied to this ground by wires, gas lines cable TV. I can still see dirt road, Queen Anne's Lace, goldenrod blue chicory field mice nesting under leaning timothy and the apple orchard rooted beyond tall firs where a woman in navy sweat pants, red Budweiser t-shirt is just now hanging laundry to drift upon the wind, sing with ghosts of spring white blossoms, honeybees. |
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