Driving Through Evinston at Sunset
As I drive through farm country,
a damp reek brewing by the roadway
hits me: manure, cut grass, honeysuckle,
the air feels light as rusk.
And I want to lie down in the newly turned
earth amid the phlox and poke weed
while sunlight creeps down the steam of day.
Off in the distant there is a whelm of color: conch pink,
mauve, gun metal gray, like the pistol you keep near us in sleep.
The cemetery by your house looks ready
to play like a chess set.
There is a washload blowing on the line; sock-lanterns ablaze,
towels bellowing like a schooner's rigging.
In the dogwoods petaled salon, bees leave
their pollen footprints as calling cards.
The occasional samba of a dragonfly
tightens the puffy-lidded dusk.
Clouds began to curdle overhead.
And I want to lie down with you in this boggy dirt,
our legs rubbing like locusts'.
I want you here with the scallions
sweet in the night air, to lie down with you
heavy in my arms, and take root.
Ann Wood Fuller was born in Deland, Florida and attended the University of Florida where she took her undergraduate degree in English and literature. She did her post graduate work under the esteemed tutelage of William Logan and Debora Gregor in the department of creative writing at the University of Florida. She has been published in many journals thorough out the U.S and she has attended many conferences where she has read and discussed her work. She is a landscape poet. She lives in an isolated part of the North central woods of Florida in a wooden structure she built herself and where she continue to write. (gatorma1@yahoo.com)