Salt of the Earth
When we were children we
ran through our
garden with a can
of Mortimer’s picking
the snow peas,
sucking them out of their pods
and lifting
the hairy leaves
of Blue Kentucky green beans.
Father canned those,
they had the highest yield of
all our crops.
The salt,
was for slugs and that was how
we learned
to watch the world burn you,
jellied
on our bare toes.
Wanting
Endlessly languid
discussions
on life
reveal the tiniest
bits.
We want symphonies,
architecture,
and children on tire
swings in
the front yard,
but
an empty
coffin
makes so much noise
compared to
what we can handle.
Zach Fishel is a pushcart Nominee and is a graduate student at the university of toledo. His work is all over, but he hopes for people to find it when they need it most. He plays several instruments and wants everyone to be alive.
Zach Fishel is a pushcart Nominee and is a graduate student at the university of toledo. His work is all over, but he hopes for people to find it when they need it most. He plays several instruments and wants everyone to be alive.
Zach's music reverberates with me.
ReplyDeleteI am glad he is alive.
I like the shift, unannounced, to that dread universal in the first poem. A case of the shivers.
ReplyDelete