Give us your scabbed
your tiny and stabbed
and pleasurably ribbed to rub.
...
Turning Point
Through the garden gate
waited
steamy and rich
a freshly dumped
pile
of the best manure
in the county
leaning against the garden's
wooden
split
rail fence
was a well used cane
topped
with a wool cap
brought out of habit
from the longest season passed
as she turned in the Earth
on hands and knees
and he silently scooped
the sh*t into the soil
he again realized
that for the 50th consecutive year
they'd eat this horse sh*t later
when it had turned
into squash soup
once planted
they rode back
the farm house waited
and their livestock
chewed
on grasses
and next year's bounty