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Jay Prefontaine
reads
Harvest Moon
in Real Audio format.
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Was I so mad last night to take a knife,
my butcher knife, into the yard with me,
on hands and knees and thinking of my wife,
stab the slick grass until I couldn’t see,
until I knew no harm would come to her?
I buried that blade, it seemed, a hundred times,
with her in mind, until my arm grew sore.
I lay back on the lawn, watched the moon climb.
An hour later, I crept along the hall,
knife in hand, and stopped outside our room
to watch her swollen belly rise and fall,
our baby steeped in the brine of her womb.
A little guilt seeped in. I let it bloom.
My wife slept on. I dreamed her beautiful.
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