What a Husband Will Do

He's one with the lonely field

of young maize grass

gripping shaft, stabbing blade

rinse-repeat shoveling the ground.

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As his hole grows, he feeds the

mound - sweat salting lips

while he sinks further in

the red-dirt, his skin.

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When done, he lay solid -

seed to be sewn -

and waits for the Fall.

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It comes: reddened flurry

from the mound, anointed

clumps smacking his face, thrown

by his Church, by his Seed.

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They smile - tears salting lips

of joy. For, once the Father blooms -

a birch of beauty -

his sacrifice be known.

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Comment 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/z202uk/a_child_scorned/ixfm0km?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

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Comment 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/z2y4o1/why_u_stalking_my_posts_but_ignoring_my_dms/ixj56ja?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3