You carelessly tumble into the patch
Lit by no moon or stars;
Craggy flowers crumble and shatter
Beneath your bared muscles and bronzed skin,
Dried too soon by the insolence of clouds.
I cautiously lay beside you,
Pricked by the flotsam of your fall.
The midnight air, bereft of moisture,
Chokes me, makes me a corpse
Breathing the breath of an abandoned sarcophagus.
No miracle of God or nature
Can undo the damage of this forever-heat;
The wheat is lost, the vegetables spoilt,
The tomatoes hanging off brittle brown meat-hooks,
Miscarried in this darkest summer.
The town's carrion call has beckoned,
The obscene opportunity of work without love.
But the sweat and tears of your ancestors
Have been sucked out of this soil,
And no crops will come from it anymore.
Fingers dry as library texts bristle my cheek
As we share the small moisture of our mouths.
Depleted leaves descend, armouring your back
As mine is cut from the never-blossoms underneath;
A doomed effort to reclaim your heritage.
copyright © 2008 Sean Shannon