Magic, Beans


The farmer’s bartering blood
again, swapping beauty for
brawn, trusting
dusk over dawn.

Soon he’ll be waiting
for the balance
of rain, holding breath
for something tall
and strange, while
in the glory (of)



In November, we poem








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5 Responses to Magic, Beans

  1. Shawna says:

    I love reading the title as “Magic Beens.” Celebrating the magic of what was.

    I’m reading this as if it’s about an elderly couple in a nursing home, remembering their life together on the farm. He still thinks it’s present day; she knows he is living in the past.

  2. Jules says:

    Bartering in blood…
    just reminds me of old scars.
    Even those so white that they seem hidden.
    Dealing with my mother’s dementia…
    Not enough blood can be bartered to get her short term memory back.

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