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Ode to a Hoe

What begins with this
singular L?
New worms, certainly,
from the splitting
of their parent self.
Whole new cities
of aerobic bacteria.
Stones from rocks.
Sprouts of pigweed, lamb’s-quarters,
purslane, dock: seeds
that had lain dormant for decades
until the hoe stirred them
into life.
This italic L spells
hills for yams,
channels for irrigation water,
a level bed for flowers.
Its thick tongue
uncovers an instant palate.
Luh, it says.
Luh   luh   luh   luh.
The shocks travel
up the aching arms.

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This entry was posted Sunday, May 18th, 2008 at 8:03 pm, last modified at 8:03 pm, 5/18/08 and is filed under Poems & poem-like things, Odes to Tools.  Print

5 Responses to “Ode to a Hoe”

1. dale says:

   May 18, 2008 at 8:37 pm

   (o)

   Reply
2. Joe Hyam says:

   May 19, 2008 at 1:15 pm

   After hoeing this morning I read this tool poem with special appreciation.

   Reply
3. Dave says:

   May 19, 2008 at 4:41 pm

   Oh yeah? Cool! Thanks for visiting.

   Reply
4. Joan says:

   May 19, 2008 at 5:20 pm

   Love this one, Dave! It’s timely too. Caught me in a luh luh lull recovering from vibrational voltage from hoeing the garden yesterday. Ouch! Now I’m inspired, however. I guess the ‘L’ got me started on this one. (Grin). No double entendre intended in the title.

   Chicaghoe

   Upheaver of crazed mud
   Flipper of turf and rocks
   Archeologist of leaf layers
   Mincer of soil nubs and worms
   Channeler of the dirt divide
   Father to the plow
   Feeder to the nation
   Hoe! Hoe! Hoe!

   Reply
5. Dave says:

   May 19, 2008 at 9:23 pm

   Ha ha ha! That’s excellent. I’m sure Sandberg would have approved.

   Reply

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I'm Dave Bonta, a poet and literary magazine editor from the eastern edge of western Pennsylvania. For background on the site, see the About page. For more about me, see my Google profile.

 

   

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