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The house they built
together booms with TV voices
loud enough to fill the rooms
where their children never played.
Before his wife died,
she said she felt like rats
were eating her brain.
He props his crutches
against the chair,
looks out the window
at thirty fat Hereford cows.
Since cancer took his leg,
he drives the pickup while
the hired man pitches off the hay.

The hired man has three kids,
lives in the little house
across the yard, next to the corrals.
He’s buying the ranch.
My uncle tells me how he built
that old house for his mother.

Right then, he decides out loud
it’s time to let the family move
into the big house. He nods.
“I’m going to move back,” he says.
“back to where
I drove all the nails.”

1 Comment Post a comment
  1. Linda Hasselstrom
    Apr 17 2011

    this looks fine, John– I’ll check the other one. I’d love to get comments


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