THE DROUGHT COMES INTO THE HEARTLAND

He mowed the drought-ridden land before its time,
The grass bleeding chlorophyll and dying, 
October yellow, brittle with dust burn.

He thought of his ex, how she once cut her hair into a crew cut
And then bleached it blonde. He wondered if the grass
Would grow back next spring green and healthy.

Her hair never regained itself. Cancer, they told him
And he went to her bedside after years of neglect.
It was a hard way to say goodbye.

by Michael Brownstein