Old Macdonald

Old Macdonald
© 1996 C.E. by L. Hernandez

Here I am, old Macdonald
My farm: your face
Watch me as I plant the seeds
Where bruises will grow ever so rapidly

Their roots nourished not by water
But by sweat and by blood
As I plant my crop

Throbbing purple – deep and true
Splashing red on black and blue
My hard work has paid off

As I fetch my blade to reap my field
You sweat dew onto my crop
You feel me pulling out this harvest by the roots
And you day ends

The field is barren – nothing but dirt