The Farmer

by Starlina Rose

The hat
Dust and black grease-soiled

Rumpled pack
Marlboros half-empty before his searching fingers
White cigarette
Old cold lungs. Wizened face.

Cardboard matchstick struck
Dimmer the flame in the rising day

Coffee on the Liar’s Bench
Every early morning
Outside the Shell Service Station
Cast in the shade of why
He can only sit there

Seeing the morning
A little longer than before

Starlina Rose lives in Asheville and is currently working on her first novel.

About The Farmer–“The Farmer” came to me in the car after we (my mother was driving) had pulled away early one morning from the gas station. I jotted down the poem as soon as I could find a piece of paper.

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