mulberry fields
they thought the field was wasting
and so they gathered the marker rocks and stones and
piled them into a barn they say that the
rocks were shaped
some of them scratched with triangles and other
forms they
must have been trying to invent some new language they say
the rocks went to build that wall there guarding the manor
and
some few were used for the state house
crops refused to grow
i say the stones marked an old tongue and it was called
eternity
and pointed toward the river i say that
after that collection
no pillow in the big house dreamed i say
that somewhere under
here moulders one called alice whose great grandson is old
now
too and refuses to talk about slavery i
say that at the
masters table only one plate is set for
supper i say no seed
can flourish on this ground once planted then
forsaken wild
berries warm a field of bones
bloom how you must i say
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