Elkhart. Planed (horizontal)
onto flat plate of the fields.
flock to leeward (behind motel).
I mosey through October park.
Light amid oaks, the old
Masonic bandstand. Lake-bound
rivers intermingle through dark
Indiana valves. Small-town museum
could be Russian (one
spare Burchfield windblown
farm, out of Depression). Hum
the highways, south of the lake (U.S.
80). Truck route, grain-
belt shuttle. Hymnal (plain-
song). Bible radio. Esso, S.O.S....
Black Elk might have passed through here
(on the train). The Buick
shuttles east-west, slick
with amaranth, milkweed... sheer
sunset loom-dust (grain elevators).
My father in rehab,
voice faint (grabs
phone with one good hand’s
bone grip) at the end of the line.
The left-side vision’s
gone. Yet mind’s precision
lifts hoarse laughter (like a highway sign).