need

i am standing in a sugar field

waiting to be sweet.

 

i fixate in the blur of

your raw hands on the

 

sheaves:

 

pulling, picking,

tasting, shearing.

 

i take my head out of

my hands

 

so i can hold the

tea, breathe into

 

its steam, feel the

container of its

 

memory.

 

i am power-

less against this

 

need;

 

it picks up warp speed as we

amble through the cane

 

toward the punishing

sun.

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2 thoughts on “need

  1. Sergio Mora says:

    transported, and breatheless, once again.

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