by Georgia Sassen, from the chapbook Refuge:

Her Refuge, the Farm

Granddad wanted to sell.
Rose wanted the farm. She was eight.
She wanted, Jim, the donkey.
She wanted the hayfield and the sound of the tractor cutting
hay in August.
The scent of the scratchy bales as they hauled them back to the barn.
Even the itchy red bumps the hay gave her as she sat on the bale,
she even wanted those.
She even wanted the steamy kitchen
where mother made her help Aunt Louise can peaches.
More than anything she wanted to wake in the morning
to the sound of a hen rejoicing
that she’d just laid an egg.
The rooster would be crowing to take ownership but
he knew someone else would get that egg.
Rose knew someone else
would get the farm.

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