Poem:

The Purpose of Poetry

This old man grazed thirty head of cattle

In a valley just north of the covered bridge

On the Mississinewa, where the reservoir

Stands today. Had a black border collie

And a half-breed sheep dog with one eye.

The dogs took the cows to pasture each morning

And brought them home again at night

And herded them into the barn. The old man

Would slip a wooden bar across both doors.

One dog slept on the front porch, one on the back.

 

He was waiting there one evening

Listening to the animals coming home

When a man from the courthouse stopped

To tell him how the new reservoir

Was going to flood all his property.

They both knew he was too far up in years

To farm anywhere else. He had a daughter

Who lived in Florida, in a trailer park.

He should sell now and go stay with her.

The man helped bar the doors before he left.

 

He had only known dirt under his fingernails

And trips to town on Saturday mornings

Since he was a boy. Always he had been around

Cattle, and trees, and land near the river.

Evenings by the barn he could hear the dogs

Talking to each other as they brought in

The herd; and the cows answering them.

It was the clearest thing he knew. That night

He shot both dogs and then himself.

The purpose of poetry is to tell us about life.

 

Jared Carter

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