All Poems

The Cane Field

First Pop would take out
his pocketknife

and cut us off a slice
and then it was just a matter

of the chewin’
and the chawin’
and the chewin’
and the chawin’.

Sweeter as it went.
And him just grinnin’

the way he grinned.
Sweeter as it went.

–June 2017

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