Afield Poem by L.S. Klatt
Afield
Something old to fondle, Osage
fruits, the stooping
transplants—my brother & I threw 'em
I-275
eastbound oranges, sky chopper traffic
Semis kicked hedge-apples interstate
into fences where the sycamores
slough their skins, the retro-
grade bluegrass
stored in Mason
& the milky planets
Bisquick & Kellogg's variety packs
such green children
sweet blister corn, reentry
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4/26/2024 1:10:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
