Tractor- Daniel Galvin

the tractor sleeps in the lane

cabin full of night

until ash flares-

your fag-end sizzling awake

 

you toke a long time, illuminating

white sandpaper jowls

fingers of stone

eyes unsure of why they’re sad

 

I could not conceive then

beyond the tractor, lane or fag

what you might be thinking about

work long done

sitting in the dark

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