Gina Abelkop


O Pioneers


I lay with the land when I can

spring-like sodder

Flay greening grass
With splayed hands

Nobody comes

knocking          Spiritually          I think of myself as accustomed
to wide     great     beauty—      governed over by what

can be razed in a quick thresh       Paltry flesh that stand                O pioneers

bring me there       and be gone