I carry most of the anxiety
for our family, someone has to…
except for when we dig potatoes
with our homemade buster
behind the tractor. There,
my spouse gets heavily involved
hovering over the beds as I pass
pointing out neglected or cut spuds
lying on the soil after the war.
I try to convince her it cannot be helped.
She recommends another pass
by making this circle motion with her arms,
over the roar of the tractor.
She wears pain on her face
as I demur, passing deeper again,
she, rescuing potatoes as I approach,
like a medic in the midst of battle.
I carry most of the anxiety for our family
except when digging potatoes.
Frank Babcock lives in Corvallis, Oregon and is a retired Albany middle school teacher and owner of a bamboo nursery. He writes poetry to share the strange thoughts that rattle around in his head and to get them off his mind. He started with an interest in the beatnik poets, Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg. He has a long way to go and much to write before he sleeps.