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Afaa Weaver's Broadside

$40

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31

"John Henry Sleeping in High Grass"

Mowers miles away, mud flies on top

his hammer like they own it, his chest

cresting and falling in shapes shifting

between sunlight and leaves, black steel

his destiny, John is motion at rest,

tides of moon and waves in still waters,

suns igniting hearts of molten iron,

a hardened conviction, rose petals in rain.

Sleep is a dream, the real world a poundage,

work a sentence for being his mama's son,

the hammer in his crib, the supernatural

a drum song of woodpeckers, cow bells

in the field, heaven a home going back to

a place before the bugle call to be born.

from Spirit Boxing