In the Middle of a Field down in Louisiana
Driving through Plaquemines Parish
An overturned cement draining pipe lies heavy,
protruding up from the overgrown
weeds like an elephant who couldn’t finish
the pilgrimage to the graveyard. On
the side it is tagged. Graffiti, blue and white,
loud and graceful as a break-beat:
There was no warning for the scenery. Made
less sense than witnessing a beached
whale or a silver tooth amidst an ivory mouth.
Such an exhausted desire in that unruly, blonde
terrain. Abandon personified in a pasture.
I wonder who, in this field, long ago, once
kissed the seeds, bent and weaving in
the heat, who first begged the green back
in the beginning.