David Lawrence


These variations are on the straight and narrow when
Encapsulated in the harrowing straw
Of your barnyard rumble.
I come out of the silo looking for corn.
I am hay.
I am the morning before the weeds burn in the yard.
I am the last heckle in the sarcasm of the geese.
The farmer turns his back on me because
He wants me to pick his pocket.
I depend on the weakness of strangers.
I am writing a book
On how it’s wrong to be alright with the world.