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Demond & O’Grady – Nov. 11

Marlayna Demond and Jenny O’Grady traded work. Marlayna shared this photo with Jenny:

In response, Jenny wrote this poem:


My feet were like tanks back then.
Other girls blushed in polyester white
Lace prom frocks from Boscovs,
Hair high and crisp curled, their lips
Ready, their toes painted and encased
In nylon from Jamesway.

My feet were farm feet then, a proud
Mix of field and firm and Choptank mud,
Of careless brushes with pricklers,
Ticks and purple thistles picked to
Circle my pulsing wrist. I led you
Through the field.

It was June and summer was over.
You followed me through the rows,
Your shoes wet, your brow
Wondering why we must skirt the
Edge, and it should have been the
Perfect kiss.

* * * *

Jenny shared this prose poem with Marlayna:


No one seems to notice. Not when the snows come and the sleds cling listlessly to the slick surface. Not when the wagon sits calmly, not tempted to wander or to spill. The land here catches all it can, a tender puff of crinoline stretching to the water. Why would anyone want to leave this place? This land is beautiful, the stuff of postcards and watercolors. I am not trapped. This land has no barriers, no trenches to drown me, no hills to climb. The grains come in evenly and on schedule. The wheat grows straight and rigid, the corn tall in neatly spaced rows I can fit between. The dogs don’t feel trapped. They bound over fledgling sprouts while chasing white-tailed deer. I could lie here forever and never fear rolling. I could walk miles and miles and never lift my foot more than a knee’s height from the ground. The only curves come from the tractor’s careful cornering at the edge of the property. I relish the curves. I dig my toes into them after the tractor goes through. When the sorghum turns red, I’ll seek higher ground.

In response, Marlayna created this photo:

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