... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... life ..., ... moon ..., ... night ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... stars ..., ... the South ..., ... time ...

The Work Horse

see this flower
bruised yellow
and red. trodden
down into the
thick red clay.
the death blow
from his iron hoof.

no one witnessed
the transgression
as the moon hid
playfully in Earth’s
massive shadow.

the stars, like me,
turned a blind eye
as he ground her
heart into the soil.

then back on his
pedestal he rests,
sentry over these
expansive fields
of famine.

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