Earth Talk, Douglas McHargue

Douglas McHargue

He comes down the hill
head held high, toughened
cheekbones, eyes searching
horizon like some Mayan warrior
emerging from lost cities
long slipped into vine-laced fog
leaving altars, stone work
and him.

Crossing the road, he slings
post hole digger weapon-like
across his shoulder
ready for spilled blood,
but lines up with bronze men
slicing red clay, laying it open
for wire talk so we can
all go on and on about
airline peanuts’ shocking cost,
cellulite ruining our lives,
end of world football lockouts.

Ground gutted, cable goes in
and he remembers
how his grandfathers
laid hands on the earth,
heard everything.

10 thoughts on “Earth Talk, Douglas McHargue

  1. Douglas Anne, I am in the Yucatan among the Mayan ruins which makes the fantastic imagery of your poem even more real. I always get so much from your poetry. Thanks for this one.

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