Dairy Barn, Bovina, NY
A full ton of
forty-year old hay festooned
with bug frass and broken honeycomb,
a folio of gutted windows,
heaps of small mammal bones, oil drums
rain-rotted beaverboard insulation torn out from
between the joists above the milking floor with my
beloved yellow-handled pick ax—
loaded and stacked tight and high by hand
right into a 15-yard dumpster was my single summer poem
two-day sweating, moving meditation
in honor and service to our mansard-roofed
tatty red darling set hard beside the road
and learning how to breathe once more.
Photo (detail) by Holly Anderson.