Fertile Earth Poem by James McLain
Fertile Earth
That burning the ice was spun upon that day.
We buried the dog in the pond out front.
The house was then taken away.
Whom I was, I am,
know now why I put flame to the fire in that publican court.
Gaving I dug back from the fertile earth.
And the fire when you die.
Is cast from the dice.
Depending on those hands that chisel breath cold,
from my warm finger it dripps, which escapes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/25/2024 1:59:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
