IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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RICE WILL GROW AGAIN

Frank A. Cross, Jr.

We were walking On the dikes Like damn fools-- Steppin over dud rounds. * * * Mitch was steppin light When he saw the farmer. The farmer: With black shirt And shorts. Up to his knees In the muck Rice shoots in one hand, The other darting Under the water And into the muck To plant new life. Mitch saw the farmer's hand Going down again With another Shoot But the hand Never came up Again-- After Mitch Ripped the farmer up the middle With a burst of sixteen. We passed the farmer, As we walked Along the dike, and I saw rice shoots Still clutched in one hand. He bubbled strange words Through the blood In his mouth. Bong, the scout, Told us the farmer Said: "Damn you The rice will Grow again!" * * * Sometimes, On dark nights In Kansas, The farmer comes to Mitch's bed: And plants rice shoots all around.

 
 
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