MY
GRANDFATHER AND UNCLE
My
grandfather and uncle
both
returned to the earth
with
untimely haste.
Although
they worked it,
broke its
back
for snow to
bite into,
dragged
sedge from ditches,
clawed back
lambs from
snowheaps,
they did not
inherit it,
unless it
was
in the
length and width
of a man's
form.
And it
claimed them
early,
reaching up
through the chest,
pain filling
the arms,
which had
gathered harvests.
And still
they loved it
and still
they cursed
on cold wet
mornings,
as it worked
like
ringworm into their hands.
In death
they shall
inherit the earth.
Until this
time
they have
been living
on borrowed
land.
