The Innisfree Poetry Journal
by Taylor Graham
To the Man at the Feed & Seed
I love how you sunny the depths of barn
as I back my little car in. I love the way
your arms are brown as buckeye on the tree.
Those arms could handle anything.
I love hearing you murmur to your partner
in your language—I can't catch the words
but it sounds like wind in orchard grass.
I love how you lift the bale of hay
with twin hooks, like an offering,
and place it gently in the bed of my car
so the springs sigh. I love the way you
manage the trick latch of the hatchback,
softly as putting a cranky child to sleep.
I love how you make no promises beyond
"have a nice day, ma'am," and how you
ask nothing of me in return.
Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication