Larry Griffin - poem


Home Free

I meet you here in the bedroom
after time of belief in kitchens
and the outside world those days.

You are baked and black.  I feel
the knowing of woodstove heat
that night and dreams come forth,

dreams fade from and to factories,
what I worked when I lived some
few years ago in this mill town
with its chamber of commerce
and its prosperous, marble banks.

I wandered those lovely streets
and found dust beneath my feet,
but now I see how the sunlight
splits the sky yellow and red.

Sun sets.  Moon rises.  Bright
stars burst from a ripped sky
here on the edge of Tennessee.

Necessity divides not the universe 
from this catalyst pride in all 
that can happen here and now:  
I take the plow, bite the soil, and farm
the land only to sleep with you. 

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