born into this land
of southern
between a wielder and the thumb
to rows forgot
no seed was planted
barns were built to block the sun
and measured
were the miles from worship
counted lives as souls to save
washed our feet in dirty buckets
swore to pick
before the rain

no sin confessed
could steal the harvest
lies recalled of summer sweat
locust swarmed
July to August
seven years (‘lest we forget)
I couldn’t say
of rest on sundays
cut my legs on splintered rails
broken beans
of string and strummer
bushels filled by pint or pail

heat burns patient
into evening
settles just beyond the fence
wonder waits
where none was planted
southern born
my lone
defense