I gift you a graded dirt road
cut through Minnesota farmland.
Roiling seas of corn, ripening.
Rural Route 2 where I dig
for agates, their blood and skin
striations.
I gift you rough ditches
where I search for purple fists
of thistle. I suck hard
the sweet petals like spears
all the way down
to the stinging white heart.
In one naked hand, a weed, sweet and wild.
In the other, a palmful of pebbles.
Dip your muscled tongue into the thick
of the thistle. Coax wet earth
from the small hard stone.
Keep me, love, in your dust-filled mouth.
Gabrielle Brant Freeman’s poetry has been published in many journals, including Barrelhouse, Mom Egg Review, The Pinch, The Rumpus, One, Scoundrel Time, and storySouth. She has been nominated for a Pushcart and was a Best of the Net finalist. Press 53 published her book, When She Was Bad, in 2016. Read her poems and more on her website. Twitter: @TheLadyRandom Instagram: @gabbyfree
Photo by Jens Mahnke from Pexels