Your Field of Reeds

Your fields of reeds are beyond
your chase of mattocks in dust
for fragments in back-breaking
work – it is in your family’s line –
in shafts & upon hillsides – as a
brushed sigh unearths bone [&
extracts Death’s last breaths of
a forgotten god & his ill priests]
Sip teas with your son [done in
in like your own dusting father]