A Farm Poem

I wrote this poem about the farm. God I miss her so much.

I Heard You Bought a House, Justin Bieber

by Maya Lazarus

I heard you bought a house,

Justin Bieber, near Cartagena.

Well, I have one there, too.

And a farm. Maybe near you.

You’ll find me there among the plantains and coconuts,

Pricking my finger on pineapple plants,

Inhaling the odiferous scent of guayaba

with its pink, succulent flesh.

Fanning myself under the palm-leafed roof

of our open-air gazebo while swinging in my hammock.

At 1 p.m. or a little earlier,

a whisper of a breeze comes forth,

disturbing wisps of hair and drying beads of sweat.

I’ll read and write all afternoon,

picking my head up at 5:30 or so

to ponder the flight of the white egrets,

as they swoop and swoon rapidly

over the farm,

 trying to beat the giant orange globe

before it sinks into the earth

at 6:30 every day.

Time never wavers near the equator.

Where our farm has a rhythm of its own,

and time is not relevant.

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2 Responses to A Farm Poem

  1. Margarita Sorock says:

    Bring on my hammock! Your poem invites me to accompany you while we eachmaintain our own space. I hope Justin Bieber feels that way too.
    Un abrazo de todo corazón,

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