Poem, Harvest, Rest, Reaping
Slip Proxy
December 17, 2023
somewhere, a collection has been taken
some small village’s entire supply of tired
assembled, applied, and left in the orchard
some few hundred trees in swollen fruit
undeniable, yet unsupplied with sleeping
worm’s hive sloping down towards stone
tractor gap gated, facing pasturage, paused
in the season for growing lichen wall, wakeful
in the season for grown diesel, abed sleepless
* * *
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