people’s poetry

In the Earth

She calls in the night,
in the blindness of three AM,
her black loam throbbing . . .

This is not the first time
I’ve slipped away to be with her.
We’ve made love on the breasts of hills
and wrapped ourselves in thickets
at high noon.

Not always gently,
I have peeled the sod from her shoulders
and slid into her steel hard —

made her bleed,
and still she loved me.

I have dressed her in clothes
unbecoming her nature;
made her lay bare on cold nights.
I have taken food away
from the mouths of her babes.

And now again this night
I lay with her — cold this time.
And once again she takes me in.

— Dave Bishop

Dave Bishop operates an organic farm near Lincoln.

People’s Poetry accepts poems on any subject,
but ones that deal with issues of local interest are encouraged. Send yours
to Books and Poetry Editor Corrine Frisch c/o Illinois
Times, P.O. Box 5256, Springfield, IL 62705,
or to cfrisch@illinoistimes.com with “People’s Poetry” in
the subject line.

This article appears in Jun 16-22, 2005.