Another Spring Night in Farmersville, Ohio

The sun is a gong hung low across the sky.

windswept.earthdirty.sunwhipped: farmers wait inside their bones

for the horizon to rise and beat the daylights out of the sun

and call them from their long dungrows for a night.

Your chastity's a song sung slow through long nights

on muffled virginals: muting babies wailing to be born:

baiting the summons of some greedclad huntsman with silvern horn,

golden arrows, a thong-strung bow.                the dream knight.

The night is calling: strong, gung-ho -- black hawk in flight.

(tonight? When one earthtired husbandman works me in his hands
& periods this dry chaste day, waters these furrows hungry from famine?

But no. 

            Just one more wrongtongued crow in flight.) 


 --Duane Vorhees