Bread, and Soil, and You

All summer my hands have smelled of
bread and soil and skin.
my eyes have burned in
the longest Oklahoman horizons,
and the sun sets held steady
Even here, in this cracked-skin landscape,
the summer welcomes my body,
one of the children, down into its underbody, rich.
Even in this land of sky
I am buried deep,
smelling only of bread and soil and skin.

june 26, 2006

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