Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Amber Nelson


What Grows There

Bone burying is monstrous &
wrong, just against the lilies.

White on white. Somewhere else is waking &
some coriander. Here, dry. Here, dust.

Before south & moving downwind to know.

Even though, even my dirty red shoes.

I watch the dirt move: one pile & then another.

I watch the seedlings disappear
under a mound of black silt

to sprout later & hide & not hide.