Digging In by Sonya Taaffe

And if there is a black stone at the base of the cornstalk,
imagine I have laid your heart on it,
and if there is black earth between the cornrows,
imagine I have laced it with your bones,
and if there is black air above the corn leaves,
imagine I have charged it with your name;
there is a black couch at the edge of the cornfield
and I am waiting.

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