Monday, May 10, 2010

by Jill

Farming - by Jill

The worst frickin thing
you can be told to do
when you are
is "Weed the beans."

But Mom's particular ferocity
sent me out
to the hammering sun,
where I sat on my butt
scootching downrow
as I pulled tiny leaflets,
and dontcha know,
two hours later
riding the rhythm of the earth
I didn't mind
the ant on my ankle
the sweat on my neck
the way Jessup taunted me that
I was going to fail French.

Mothers are so

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