Two Farm Poems by Sonya Hess

m review

Farm Dream During Pregnancy

Quiet as a folded blanket, who is she?
This woman, made of wood, her body

bent in half across barbed wire fencing
neatly, stiffly; frozen laundry.

And in the ditch? Triplets:
two gestated in seriousness, but the third

is more balloon-gone-limp, no legs,
just fronds of skin like skirt pleats

swaying slow as seaweed in the irrigation sludge.
All three look up with chilled green eyes

at mother, chainsaw-carved and still,
her arms bursting with splinters.

Farm Dog

Dream dog, ghost who is not snow,
not-white but gray of four a.m.,
February, pallor, heather, storm:

Go from here. You lick my ear
with not-tongue, with wind and wet clay.
You wag your sadness out across the prairie

over stiles to the back door
and you nose the screen with winter, water, icicle
and say: the dead are each their own dog soul

with gleaming teeth and friendly tails
barking at back doors incessantly.

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In memory of Jackie Mosier

This issue is dedicated in loving memory of our fellow classmate and writer, Jackie Mosier.

current issue :: 2008