Harris, Robert A.

Down Home

1. Pears and peaches were rotting on the ground by the time Chick butchered the favored red boar.
2. Three rows of trees stood mute witness to the single shot from the worn .22
3. And when the butcher pole was bathed red again
4. October breezes wafted the treble smells of split pig, spilt blood, and rotting fruit
5. Into an odor so exotic the approaching buzzards wasted what little day
6. that remained
7. deciding where to alight.
8.  
9. We saw their confused and cautious spirals from the hayfield,
10. Where the drying clover stubble yielded to new growth;
11. Our mouths watering in anticipation of Siretha’s supper.
12.  
13. Likely, she saw them too.
14. Expected them (from the window framing the eastern horizon)
15. Not long after the rifle’s report breached the quiet of the farmhouse kitchen.
16.  
17. On the slow ride to the barn we imagined her there.
18. And, tossing bales from trailer to loft, entertained talk of
19. Lima beans so tender we’d have to eat them from spoons;
20. A steaming crock of mustards swimming in green-black liquor.
21.  
22. There’d be a plate mounded with piping hot-water cornbread,
23. Another stacked white and red with columns of onion and tomato,
24. And a third, surely, would soon be piled with pork chops.
25. Fresh. Thickly carved. Breaded.
26.  
27. An eastern dust-cloud confirmed the children’s return from the new city pool.
28. Still a mile distant, they’d pass the buzzards (some circling still).
29. They’d see but not know, we said.
30. And we’d have time to wash and change into clean shirts.
31.  
32. Around the table nine heads bow,
33. Weary from the day’s work and play.
34. And somewhere between the cobbler and final Grace
35. Some (who know) will remark – but none, too directly –
36. At how peacefully that favored red boar will rest with us tonight.