The Long Grass
       

The long grass is mown.
The long grass is mown but not yet raked.
The cut stalks interlace and dry in a net
above the green.

Everything is green.
Everything is green and slightly sour.
The girls gallop and gallop, pretending
they have horses.

The girls gallop. They are horses.
They run the field of red clover
and rye—inflorescence
above; a sweetness within.

Everything is sweet
Everything is sweet and slightly green.
At the bottom of the trough, pale algae waves.
They run the pump to fill the tank. They dip their faces in the cold.

By summer's end they are bored and tan.
By summer's end they are young women.
Right now they wander to Salem Free Church
to weave graveyard flowers into their manes.

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Copyright © 2021 Lisa Rhoades All rights reserved
from The Long Grass
Saint Julian Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission