Ordinary Dirt

Light copper clay

clothes this spirit,

houses this farm girl soul.


No noble-born lady ever walked

in these grass-stained shoes

and cut off jeans


or walked her dog

by the pond

along the muddy field


where buzzards roost

on a barn, waiting

for cows to die.


It wasn’t a beauty queen

who pulled garden weeds

in mid-day heat


while manly sweat

soaked her hair,

dripped into her eyes,


and deposited salt on her lips

so that she jumped into a pool,

still fully dressed.


There is no fantasy-dream woman

under these wraps, no Snow White,

no damsel with doe eyes and cherry lips.


There is only me

sun-freckled, cornbread eatin’,

southern-drawl, bean-shellin’,


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