Wednesday, June 24, 2020


Song For A Widow's Marriage

Husband, I come to you, no girl,

but a woman earthed from North Dakota.

I have known the farm,

have milked cows,

have forked manure

into the spreader,

have smelt the deep ammonia

of horse urine.

I have borne the womb burden;

I have borne and bear

the woes of children,

woes that hang as unaccountable

as moon dogs or a dry dipper.

I come to you no girl

but I come rich

with peasant blood

and warm as sun-dug potatoes.

You shall have me warm beside you

when winter turns over the roof's edge;

you shall have me

like something held for winter

coming live with flavor

from the double-doored root cellar;

and, when I take the pies

from the oven

and when I take the bread

that yeasted all the kitchen

in the afternoon,

come, kiss my neck

and walk with me

through the late garden.

Franklin Brainard
Minnesota's Writer's Publishing House