(a rondeau)*

when it was new, this farm shone
with the tractor’s polished chrome
the barn’s crisp trim
the silo’s glinting rim
and the field’s glowing loam

it became a place for weeds to comb
through rotting cars as if sown;
these rusting crops never creased his skin
when it was new

now, the gate creaks with his bones
the fence posts lean and groan
with his warped, hobbling limb
familiarity cannot sate him
he never felt as alone
when it was new