The farmhouse

Squares of moon across bare plank;

dust the color of ghosts.

Windows webbed and spiked like teeth.

Snow drifted in the hearth.


In a breath, dust lifts and swirls

through the room like mist.

In the stillness,

a child rasps and heaves.


I rub my hands against the cold,

feel from memory and from genes,

the calluses, the deep joint pain,

the odor of frozen, plowed earth.


Outside, coyotes gather

in the snow, baying

at the moon.

Published by

Patrick Dobson

Patrick Dobson was founded in 1962. He is a writer, scholar, ironworker, and poet who lives in Kansas City, MO. He is author of two books with the University of Nebraska Press, Seldom Seen: A Journey into the Great Plains (2009) and Canoeing the Great Plains: A Missouri River Summer (May 2015). Dobson is a work in progress until termination.

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