by Debra Bliss Saenger

Born in a hard season
of tobacco cutting, Thomas
John, gnat of a boy, hair colored red-brown as leaf spit
after a chaw. Strands stick
out like pieces
of straw, a pinwheel
with wind whistling into his eyes. Birth
cry matches mother’s groans as push
relinquishes burden
untimely birth
chambered
in large timbered shed planted
next to a field.

Surrounded by pungent tobacco hung
dried by still air, Thomas John, christened
with clay-red water pooled
nearby, gathering his name and God.
Mother swaddles baby
rough blanket salvaged
from shed, girdling
him across her stomach heads toward
woods. Slip of a girl, fifteen and swallowed
whole if father returns from fields to find unwed
daughter birthing sin.

Thomas John’s last day on earth lies inside the silky
grass of the woods breathing gently and fresh.

As a member of the Poetry Society of Virginia, Sisters in Crime, Short Mystery Fiction Society, and Arlington Writer’s Group, Debra’s previous writing and publishing hats include Gannett, Inc. and Cox Enterprises editor, marketing professional, English teacher, public television director, and published poet. Her work has appeared in The Granite Review, Punk Noir Magazine, Yellow Mama, and Otherwise Engaged Literature and Arts Journal. She lives in Northern Virginia with her family and a fetching rescue dog.