Beyond the house is the lonely ledge
open to cornfield after cornfield.
Jumper (yes, you) tempted, balled fists,
affixed to the dirt like a cornstalk—
corn that will require a sharp
knife for the daughter has braces.
How do you expect her to eat it
on the cob? Why do all your meals
require perfect teeth? What are you doing
standing there, back to the wind, with such
elongated arms and legs that flop/flick
mimicking those tube men at car dealerships?
All corn must be harvested—
never mind the hour or the puddles of blood.
Cat Dixon (she/her) is the author of Eva and Too Heavy to Carry (Stephen F. Austin University Press, 2016, 2014) and the chapbook, Table for Two (Poet's Haven, 2019). Recent poems have appeared in LandLocked, Anti-Heroin Chic, and Abyss & Apex. She is a poetry editor at The Good Life Review. She tweets @DixonCat.