Nancy Bo Flood
I come from coal dust
And hopes taken down, down, down
Deep mine shaft down underground.
Dig hard, spend lean, save, save, save,
Before the shaft fills and dreams drown.
Homestead rich black fields.
Truck-farm tall corn, fat round tomatoes,
Finest sweet peppers, red, yellow, green.
Sell a bushel, soul hopes,
Fingers hold earth.
Buy all the acres you plow.
Wed. Birth. Bury.
Corn grows from one yellow seed
Into an immigrant’s dream.
©Nancy Bo Flood. All rights reserved.
It never ceases to amaze me the stories poetry can tell and the way poets can use words. Nancy Bo Flood paints a picture here with such economy, subtle rhythm, and fresh images that combine to create a powerful, sweeping story. Good stuff, I say, lacking that same ability right now!
You can find more "good stuff" in her latest collection, Cowboy Up! Ride the Navajo Rodeo. While the setting itself may not be familiar, the verses make it all real, tangible, alive.
Yesterday, Robert Schechter gave us Mistaken Identity. Tomorrow... Debbie Levy shares The Garden Secret! For more on 30 Poets/30 Days and ways to follow along, please click here.