Ironclad Reckoning

I cut the charm into the last sheaf Called the Corn Mother

by the old name She answered once then turned her face Left

the field hollow and the grain ashamed Moon-phase wrong,

the plough refused the ground I drove the cattle through the hollow

tree Need-fire burned but the smoke went down Something under the roots

began to breathe

The soil remembers every unpaid debt Every storm I tried to buy

with blood

I hung the animal heads on the fence posts

Still the hail came and chewed the flood

I dug beneath the oak where the water speaks

Found a mouth that never needed teeth

It offered weather in exchange for voice

I gave the words I used to keep belief

Now the rain falls upward when I sleep

The furrows open wider when I leave

Dogs no longer know the scent I carry

They bark at the shape the dark receives

Field spirits learned my

true name slow

Practiced the syllables in the rain

When they finish speaking I will not remain

Only the mud will keep the shape I made (ahhhh) Only the

mud will keep the shape I made