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A Preemptive Elegy
November 11, 2008
for M.L.
When the acres go away they will forget their farmers. They will lean, woven with soil, into damp patches of morning, quilting a settlement of gift-swollen seeds.
When you go away I hope I will inherit your rake which dreams of asparagus. You might, by then, be an overflowing, a soup stain on a tablecloth.
You might be burrowed, lettuce-like, into the fields of so many nights.
You might be sulfur-broken wings wrinkled against the horizon while I navigate a bitter maze of patient hands, raking a patchwork of dirt.
Original soundtrack by Failboat – Download the MP3
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Categories: Journaling the Apocalypse
Failboat, Thomas P. Levy
qarrtsiluni 
A lovely poem. Wonderful. Very nice reading, too.
“When you go away I hope I will inherit your rake which dreams of asparagus” — that’s a wonderful image; I read it over and over again and it keeps on giving.
Amazing.
How I love the idea of “when the acres go away they will forget their farmers.” I laughed out loud with the wonder of your words, then like Janet…I read and read again.
You have a beautiful insight into the way of things. Thank you!