1.
The night a comet
with its silver tail
tucked between its legs
fell through darkness
to rest in the Wades'
dead field
Papa stood
on the back stoop
unmoving, wolf
starved in metal trap
teeth broken from winter's
harsh bite.
In the back of the shotgun
the crooked step jutting
out like a lip, he could see
the sky neck, feel the stars
shake they heads
That night he threw
the fallen stone
back to sky
the stars watched
it all come down
to ruined earth again.
Sky would not take back
what she had done
the fields spent,
barren.
2.
When the wagonwheel broke
shattered like Siss Bo
right knee, they fled
and Papa left
the wagon leaning
in the road.
The horse sweated
at high noon
the two youngest
on its back.
He shook its head
but not at the burden
the way Rushia
took the seed bags
the brown scuffed case
filled with the children's
best, adjusted
her Sunday hat.
Papa stood on the hard
packed road, stroking
the horse lathered
in froth, whistled once
and then the whole damn
sky fell on him.