ole' man of silver queen kingdom

acres he tilled at night      
after the factory work putting      
shiny bum-pers on trucks      
     
spring, we poked seeds in the black dirt      
when almanacs prophesized      
an end of the seasonal ice-grass      
     
hoe-weeding rows all days but sabbaths      
"not the goddamn corn boys "      
he said on leather hand saturdays      
swinging sun up till down      
     
we never asked for drink untill     
he walked to the hose and      
fed his mud-cracked lips  
 
     
the green hard stalks       
rose like boys in the morning      
golden tassels dancing      
in the blue sheet sky
     
the silver milk mother queen      
squeezed into the swollen nubs      
wrapped in silk string ribbons      
inside emerald leaf wombs      
     
in the dark before dawn they 
picked me up quiet truck rumbling      
bouncing on the dirt drive    
     
dew soaked plant blades cut our arms      
pulling down corn ears with wrist twisting tosses      
into the bin behind the tractor  
     
the ole silver queen grandad in the seat
and us wet dirty cold bleeding,  
smiling-sweaty in the lush eden-work of life    
     
later, those six foot tractor tires      
i dug three feet mud deep      
in his granddaddies front yard      
     
cause my scrawny nine year      
old body  had no gravity      
to engage the clutch and      
stan hopping up to take the blame      
     
a red scream closing in      
"what the hell yall done now      
stay off the godddamn tractor i said"      
     
yanking stan down and with a wallop        
aside the head to fix his hearing