---

George Lewis Avery

---

in the midst of a drought
there was this farmer a neighbor
who stood vigil in his thirsty field
[openly distraught] while his crops shriveled
in sand hot enough to fry an egg
and not a cloud in the sky
nor any prediction
to come

on this day he swiped off his hat
and run a forearm across his heated brow
then he turned aside to me and said:
"my crops be damned but i am thirsty
in fact i think i ve exasperated the last
molecule of moisture i own
and all that is left is a pillar of ash
held together by laminated tears
hardened in the kilns of purgatory
and the porcelain is so damn hot
that even if deluged
moisture would repel from me like
sister poles of a magnet
and though i know it would do me no good
what i wouldn't give for just one drop of rain"
and he shook his fist at the sky
"on my soul ...'

and out of the barren blue
a single drop of rain came careening down
from that enormous height
and it struck him in the forehead and kilt him

so be mindful what you barter for

- it rained nonstop at his funeral
- our crops drowned
- our topsoil washed into the creeks
- and the devil took his soul

.oeg ©