Like you, I could give away my life to farming.
Like you, I could settle down
in a small house on a few acres.
We’re both inured to living on near nothing,
at the whim of drought and flood,
taking up our loving but meagre inheritance,
despite the creeping shadow of Big Agriculture,
the slimy tendril of greedy banks.
Like you, I keep abreast of the weather.
Like you, my mood can rise or fall
with the price of grain.
And like you is a step toward liking you.
And liking, in a good year, can turn to loving.
And, in a bad year, even more so.
So here we are, in church, in the presence
of half the townsfolk.
The ceremony and the reception
couldn’t be more perfect.
And it’s sunny out, thank goodness.
But we’re expecting rain, thank God.
John Grey is an Australian poet and U.S. resident, recently published in New World Writing, River And South and Tenth Muse. His latest books include Subject Matters, Between Two Fires and Covert, available through Amazon. His upcoming work will be featured in Paterson Literary Review, White Wall Review and Cantos.
Vishaal Pathak writes short stories and poems and occasionally clicks a picture. His photography has appeared or is forthcoming in Juste Milieu Zine, Moiramor, Ink In Thirds and The Word’s Faire.
ELEVENTH HOUR LITERARY 