farm tales

The well’s depth
was a mere twenty rungs
revealed by a drought
that cared little for coins

The rabbit was strung and skinned
its secrets gutted and strewn on the ground
before it could get the chance
to beckon me down the hole
But its tongue
was close enough to candy
Who could believe in the luck

of the foot that didn’t get away

Double yolks,
a pod of perfect peas
a tomato bloodier
than its skin
a slice of melon
without seeds
gave more wonder
than any handful
of shriveled beans

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