the dry-dead whisper of corn crops in july, poetry

[cridecoeur]

title: the dry-dead whisper of corn crops in july
author: cridecoeur
type: poetry

I drove until I heard the whisper
of dry-dead corn crops in July
and found the dry-dead emptiness
of country roads, well past ripeness,
rinds cracked and revealing
their bruised and sordid fleshiness.

The sky dwarfed me and the horizon
broadened me until my animal displeasure
slipped thin and weak from my body.

I lost my mother’s face among the weeds,
my childish voice to a rough-necked crow,
Still-frames of childhood heartache and content
All gone from me, all gone.

And what of my own face, slithered beneath
the surface of some green-algea pond?
Perhaps fish shall find a better use for it than I.