His Father’s Farm

Before Joseph left his father's farm
in Oregon, he descended into a freshly cut
womb where once he had been
cast by the sons of Leah and Bilhah
and Zilpah in Canaan.

His fingers reminisced among root hairs
and serpents and ripped
tubers oozing and smooth
rock
and jagged, ochred
rock and snails in their salty
penumbrae;

but his nails did not immediately
comprehend
tiny beads, rhubarb red and pumpkining
green.

He brushed them and touched an elbow and
forearm.




His Father’s Farm [#13]
© 2009 Fammerée


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Richard Fammerée
fammeree@att.net
director@universeofpoetry.org

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