Abandoned Farm House

ABANDONED FARM HOUSE


From the faded sepia photograph on the mantel,
A man in black suspenders secured by tin eagles,
Creaseless black pants, whose face
Now blank except for a bizarre blue coloration
Like a watercolor wash suddenly pale.
He spoke in his childhood voice what he had
Never spoken when alive. He spoke of
Orange-tipped fanned-out blue-white feathers,
Fireflies' flashing on wilted corn stalks,
Their dried ears with limp white-gold tassels,
The slippery green ground spotted
With starshaped white flowers by the pig pen.
The voice changed from that of a child
To an adult and became mute.


Duane Locke

Posted over on Lynx