(Still in progress)
In the corn
We fled our innocence,
Our naivete tumbling out
Of the car with us-
Our feet as urgent
For the dirt and stalks
As we for each other.
We laid below
the panting leaves-
The light peered over
pale yellow ears,
Illuminating the tense forearm
That grappled at me gently.
In the corn
I worried we might be caught arrested humiliated.
You reassured.
But the wind continued to taunt me.
We got back in my car
And spoke not of corn
The rest of the day.
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