HomeSouthern VoiceCross-Pollination


by Rachael Evans

The sun beats down
as I craft life
sitting amid the soybeans
where sounds drift for
what seems miles to the next.
worker, friend, breathing entity.
I lift my head to take
note of who is closest,
in what direction conversation
lies and all is silence.
Dripping off my body sweat
joins with soil to create sludge
and I work as routinely
as my phone ticks time away.

Minutes stretch.

I wander through
green waves passing canopies
of varying shades
till I reach that fluid source
of salvation killing
more minutes till freedom.
Shouts rise above
the whistle of wind as whispers
passing over leaves and stems.
Someone is down, fallen
to the whim of the sun’s
brutality. I stand, body
held by the sound
hand shading eyes. I descend,
return to my maturing haven
between genders to
check the message to
find who, only to be
stilled by the onset of
sirens, harsh in this far off
realm of fertility.

I still and watch
my fellows rise from
beneath to watch its
discomforting approach.

Rachael Evans is a graduate of Southeast Missouri State University’s English Department and currently lives in Illinois. An Air Force brat, she lived in Louisiana for eight years while growing up and says her heart and soul remain there. 

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