Wednesday, November 25, 2009

for Thanksgiving


The potato that ate all its carrots,
can see in the dark like a mole,

its eyes the scars
from centuries of shovels, tines.

May spelled backwards because
it hates the light,

pawing its way, paddling along,
there is the catacombs.

Bruce Guernsey, New England Primer (Cherry Grove Collections, 2008)