by Alana Joblin, Hunter MFA Poetry 2007
Published in Quarterly West 65, Fall/Winter 2007-2008
We are not supposed to sing when someone drowns do not rejoice
but someone is always drowning in the sea I am not supposed to sing
if someone’s always drowning – somewhere someone’s drowning –
when can I rejoice? (I’ve wasted so much
Stalks of wheat. Wheat cutting shins.
Wheat shielding shadows.
Someone found me in a field of wheat.
How old was I?
It was pay your weight and my meal cost 49 cents.
How did I end up there?
Alana sometimes appears to be in her own dreamlike world.
Who was watching me?
My pretty counselor has bangs and snaps grape gum.
Who found me?
I can’t see above his waist.