maize rows attempt to open the earth
absorb me before I can rise from the dirt
a sudden decrease in blood pressure
me to my knees clutching my chest.
maize rejoices that it is its turn to feed on me.
my flat-ear din, I hear their celebration
the earth opens a little wider to accept my hand
my knees, shins and feet.
could soon be as if I never existed
the only trace of me will be my Cubs hat
tumbled down the neat rows of stalks
rise taller than my head when standing.
Kenneth P. Gurney lives in Albuquerque,
NM, USA with his beloved Dianne. He edits the poetry blog Watermelon
Isotope at watermelonisotope.com. His latest poetry book is Stump Speech. His
personal website is at kpgurney.me.