New Hope Amish School
I think you should go see it, Levi.
Eden might be a perpetual August.
My boots echo along the pavement
road. The schoolhouse door is heavy,
steel-reinforced. The children have left
for home. From the window, the boys
bail hay together. I feel the propane
heat. I picture Anna driving a five-horse
hitch, gripping the leather reins, black
earth pouring over itself in harvest
baptism. I renounce the devil, Lord.
The world. My own flesh and blood.