Detail of the Hayfield

I followed myself for a long while, deep into the field.
Two heads full of garbage.

Our scope was larger than I realized,
which only made me that much more responsible.

Yellow, yellow, gold, and ocher.
We stopped. We held the field. We stood very still.

Everyone needs a place.

You need it for the moment you need it, then you bless it—
thank you soup, thank you flashlight

and move on. Who does this? No one.

Copyright © 2013 by Richard Siken. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-a-Day on February 8, 2013. Browse the Poem-a-Day archive.