the crops we sow will eat us 

Huge insects

Undulate and

Stir the hot night air. 

The dogs sleep on the porch and 

Kick their feet and dream of

Men in long white coats. 

They dream of yellow eyes in the

Corn field, the 

Mournful howl. 

And inside you 

Beat your wife,

You belt whiskey,

Enraged by an unexplained

Tick in the wall.

Puddle of water on the floor. 

This is why you don’t let those

Goddamn dogs in the house, Amelia. 

Dark red spatter across the linoleum,

Up the oven door. 

You tear the sheetrock out

To find the

Every thirty seconds

Knocking sound. 

All you do find is old

Bones and teeth and the rinds of 

Oranges fuzzy with

Mold. 

Before bed you gouge your

Eyes out, you hope

Not to dream of men in

Long white coats,

Yellow eyes in the cornfield,

The mournful howl. 
You are digging a long narrow grave.

When you go out to your 

Tractor in the morning the dirt on its

Maw has turned to mud with the dew. 

You pour in a gallon of gasoline

And drive the tractor to the trench. 

It’s a mighty grave, a holy one fit for a 

Giant king whose head has

Grown over with moss

And his carriage and his 

Horse flies. 

You plan ahead,

Carve out the day in sticky grooves of earth. 

You wear beads of humidity

And excess. 

And when you’ve finished the day’s

Digging, you

Slaughter the goat which has

Badly needed slaughter. 

His eyes have turned to oracles, his

Tongue a poisonous toad.

You wear his blood like a mask, you

Carve away the skin, the shoulders, the

Good flank meat. 

You stretch what is left

As a sign to others

who may dismantle you. 

You feed the dogs intestines for dinner,

 they gnash their white teeth. 

This time you don’t

Beat your wife, you leave your

Eyes in. You want to see

What’s coming. 

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