Thea’s Farm
He can’t believe this country is so wide.
Uncle Sam sits on a thick board
Atop whitewashed cement blocks
His back to the white garage wall
And looks at the
Butch waits at his side,
Head up, ears pointing.
Sam from
Gandy-dancer,
Rode the rails
To
Rolled his dollars up
And tucked them under
His pillow at night,
But the city shook him loose.
Sam from
And
Came back to
To build a farm
For grandmother’s sister Katina.
Caterpillars used to crawl
The cool cement wall
Under the porch
Of the white house.
You could smell the asparagus fields.
Inside smelled of well water.
In the living room Diana,
Twelve inches tall,
Highlighted in red nail polish,
Seemed puzzled to have lived so long.
In the kitchen
The refrigerator
Held a jug
Of syrupy fruit juice
So sweet
It made my teeth hurt.
Oh, Thea, for me
This was Hallas!
I sat all day with King
On the low hung roof of the shed.
He followed me,
As I walked the rail fence,
And watched while I threw rocks
At tadpoles in the creek.
Remember Lucky,
Born on
And Butch,
Bristle-haired
Brown and black
Short-legged Butch?
Remember white-haired King?
I sat in the seat of the Jeep
Parked 25 years in a shack,
Drank from the hose above the tub,
Filled the bowls, and called
Ella Lucky, ella Butch, ella King.
And I played in the house
Where I saw through the arched
Plaster door of a room
Where vigil lights
Lit Icons carried from
By young girls who came to
