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Click hereThe belly between the bendy days
and the oncoming headlights of sexual reckoning
lies the fallow field
of thirty
some
odd
years.
Why desire has turned his head
she does not know, only that the sun
is as mediocre as ever but its shadows cast
weight
not light. No pilgrims
line the side of the road, thumbs to approve.
The highway stretches for miles
over the prairie, under crows, beside the bovine,
slight inclines, reclines, declines.
Threatening, benign, the field,
her fallow field,
is her only travelling companion
through this dusty weather.
This is just a beautiful piece. Gorgeous use of both imagery and rhythm. This really took my breath away.
Surely this valley is not so fallow. Such lush bottom land looks so fertile. I would hope it's not left fallow.
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The start of the poem is a bit off, though. Shouldn't it be "[In] the belly between the bendy days / and the oncoming headlights of sexual reckoning / lies the fallow field"?
<p>
Whatever. Clever, linguistically interesting, the kind of poem that makes me...
<p>
Well, we shan't go into that. :)
Gorgeous poem. I read it yesterday and had to come back today to read it again. Thanks for sharing. :)