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.
Photo by Marta Dzedyshko on Pexels.com
