Measuring Dryness
she curled her knuckles
to wire handle, pressed her footsteps
into the chalky thirties’ ground,
pacing off meters to rocky shore
of once-upon-a-time river
trickling across thirsty stones
sharp-spined cattle, lolling
in bare branch brush, sought shade
as much as drink and followed their tongues
to lick pawed ridges in the brittle bank
children, fretting in moving shadows,
under life-seeking sun, bones melting
in dry heat of day until they sprawled
over the porch of cracking clapboard house
watching dust join sky, she drug wooden bucket
against a wet socket in sand
until water wept slowly
on her chapped cheeks
she dropped to her knees in necessary prayer
for relief of hot breath on her bowed head
as the sky filled with gray flour swept
from the bread box of America
grit rubbed her legs raw beneath threadbare skirt
as she measured her way back to the cabin,
calling the children to come in
for a muddy dipper of last liquid
strikes of stick matches
ticked off time like dull thuds
of drops of water dripping slowly
from rusty pump onto a scalding sod