four hours of laundering and all the money comes
back to a pocket singing of its handlers
so it went with a new year
and we were blessed and blowsy in our new threads
weather always threatened to break
the calf in its field worried away the grass with its cute
face--distant noises of what would press against
its older head
but this purpose you speak of, this coupling
and trick of light
we bury our heads with frightening sounds
our finger blinds open slowly.
two ducks flap
over each ear
of corn
rows beyond
where the cows are
sleeping
my house is not
a furrowed thing
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