Posted in Poetry

tobacco fields

my mind is never in the same place twice
rather, in a row
my grandfather planted tobacco
straight and narrow, leaves unfurling
catching the glint of sun
allowed through the cumulus cloud

rules are meant to be broken, mom said
grandpa scolding my dad in the meadow
found with a girl from school
he barely knew
teasing her with stories of snakes in the outhouse
his wheels screeching as home disappeared

looking back
i wandered into the pit
wearing rubber gloves
the black bear watching in wonder
determining how i found choice stories to recall
watch my heart bleed

the smell of human flesh
enticing to hunger
his claws enraptured in the making of my puzzles
i took his photograph
he did not smile -knowing
i would never recall the day’s amusement