The Peach Thieves

 

so then

set yourself

 

before things

 

when

fields

 

not yet

cropped

or boxed

 

but

plotless

 

without end

or object

 

 

there

 

 

remember them

 

as one

unfigured sum

 

where

muchness

 

loosed

from law

or logic

 

still

clung

in clots

of pulsing light

 

behold those

tolling tones

 

that

touch

 

on what

goes on

 

beyond us

 

here

 

reach

out

 

feel

the yield

of meat

 

plunge

pitward

for the core

 

and tongue

and tongue

and tongue

so long

it stung

 

and come

to know the world

by heart

 

and

wonder

 

how

 

we never

really

noticed

 

this

 

until

just

now

Joel David Beacon

Barnwood poetry magazine