Cornfield Across Route 152

by

Thomas Michael McDade

The TB hospital
we painted
Dutch Boy Deluxe
blinding white
had found a new life
as a nursing home.
Its long porch
was a stage
facing a cornfield.
Once Jimmy climbed in
the one corpse cooler
in the morgue
and scared
enough hell out
of Jackie
to make him cross
himself wrong.
In the library,
Augie found a volume
of poetry with strips
of candy wrapper
flagging a dozen poems.
J.D. said only Westerns
were worth reading.
A brain tumor killed him
as dead as Wyatt Earp.
We figured he drank
the cheap wine
to battle the pain.
J.D. often took
his medicine
from a Thermos
on the porch
he always said
was big enough
for a barn dance
as he stared off
into his audience
of butter
& sugar corn
like a man
who’d leave a trail
in an old
poetry anthology.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Robert Cameron Hazelton
by: Francis Duggan
from: Wonthaggi, Victoria, Australia

To visit all of Thomas Michael McDade's poems, click HERE

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