and five thousin got fed that day
Near the chicken lot trees wave their arms. Pa's voice
in the wind. "Troubles! Don't tell me about ..." Then it blows away
with the leaves. Acorns popping my head and the chicken
house. A tin roof is rattle-y. Like the ice last summer fell from the sky.
Hell. The devil is there and the dimocrats get to go this fall.
Pa through the wire. Nobody but him and the chickens.
Don't
hang
on the wire
it'll cut my fingers off.
He's a-hollerin. "And don't tell him either. He already knows."
Scattering corn like seed.
And five thousin got fed that day.
