suspenders. His kidney beans. His knives.
names for those from other countries,
men who love men.
belt and his simple rules.
had a tiny square of metal in his head,
a thumb, a pocket comb.
felt his way home in the dark
he was feeding a herd of strange animals by hand.
the hatred in the voice of a tractor
frozen engine is forced to turn over
by the driver? Does the wind
the hand’s tremor?
the relentless emptiness
to internal intricacies,
suffering of a calf trampled by its own sire
anyone’s regular pain?
you spend long enough out in the elements
you become wood, iron, rain?
is prairie algebra.
is a particular equation
which my father is the result.
don’t have to understand it.
don’t have to forgive.
just tell you that he is buried
the blackest soil a glacier ever left behind
my pen is not a spade.