Adam Tavel

The Harrow Plow
February 23, 2017 Tavel Adam

The Harrow Plow

 

Each spring it sank a little further down
beneath the apple tree where we would stand
and pitch those sour globes to feel them burst
against a bat we could barely swing.
Convinced it was a spacecraft run aground
no matter what my cousins said, their hands
held up to show streaking stains of rust,
I climbed atop and imagined wings
on either side to captain its decay.
Hologram commanders relayed the psalms
from girls on planets doomed, penning pleas
for heroes from the stars. My proton rays
blew aliens apart, just like my palms
which split the day I bashed that wreckage free.

Adam Tavel won the Permafrost Book Prize for Plash & Levitation (University of Alaska Press, 2015). He is also the author of The Fawn Abyss (Salmon Poetry, forthcoming) and the chapbook Red Flag Up (Kattywompus, 2013). Tavel won the 2010 Robert Frost Award and his recent poems appear or will soon appear in Beloit Poetry Journal, The Gettysburg Review, Sycamore Review, Passages North, The Journal, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and American Literary Review, among others. He can be found online at http://adamtavel.com/.