SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT...

“Children, I said to her. For the first little while, they not exactly human, you don't find?”
Nalo Hopkinson

Friday, March 9, 2012

Poem For Today: Reapers By Jean Toomer


"Reapers"

Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones
Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the homes
In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done,
And start their silent swinging, one by one.
Black horses drive a mower through the weeds,
And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds.
His belly close to ground. I see the blade,
Blood-stained, continue cutting weeds and shade.

Jean Toomer  (1894-1967)

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