if the cotton crop fails if the wheat crop fails if Oklahomans wander forever among the back lots of Hollywood if the potato crops fail if the corn crops fail if the sun corrodes a copper mirror our faces afloat above a crib in Guadalajara where the ceiling fan rends our voices and the secret lives of aloe roots confess to a window in feathers of ice then the bluebells yawning up in ruts of mining roads will measure the border wall in the serene apotheosis of their sepals and one drop of my blood will freeze in the eye of an old fox, and one drop from your eye thaw to feed the iris bulbs three beads from our lungs inhaled by a prisoner in the electric chair a queen in a fairy tale a farmer planting mines east of her field if the gears of the clouds say yes if ants flow up and down the funnels of evolution then time will prism into its possibles and you'll end up in a bar in Alabama a cherry in your mouth watching a hotel key float toward you or you'll wake in a labyrinth called Monday called Your Life called The Things You Prayed For and your intricate decisions will lead you out and deeper in your mirrors dissolving in ghost water and your indecisions will go on subtracting numbers from the garden and building houses in the air Copyright © 2019 by Chad Sweeney. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 18, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets. |
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