Virginia’s Landscape

Ruth Stone is working in a field. The land is on her hands

When a train of air, thunderous, barrels across Virginia’s landscape

And she feels and hears the poem, coming t’ward her over Virginia’s landscape.

It comes barrelling down at her. Rushing at her body.

Shaking the earth under her feet, shaking over Virginia’s landscape

And she runs like hell, being chased by a poem across Virginia’s landscape.

Seducing it, she lures it to the house. She races it inside.

To the pencil, she grabs at it, dusty from the race across Virginia’s landscape.

It enters into her, she grabs with her soiled hands from Virginia’s landscape.

She has it now, by the tail. Writhing in her grasp.

Collected on the page, no more to rush and roam across Virginia’s landscape.

No longer writhing, its been written from its course on Virginia’s landscape.