Prairie Pragmatism
Judy Ireland
I have seen giant threshing machines powered by steam,
and women with hands as big as a man’s, and rope as big around as your arm.
I’ve seen giant metal wheels and gears
throw grain high into the air,
how easy it can be to lose an arm,
or a son to war, or an entire farm. I’ve heard people say they’ve reached the end
then walk to the barn, and do the chores. I’ve seen women standing
in front of massive machine shed doors,
not crying. I’ve seen combines
with jagged-toothed gathering chains,
stuffed deer heads on walls,
medals in shadow boxes,
empty soup cans full of old tobacco.
I have seen a woman catch a timbersnake
with her bare hands, kill it with a garden rake
and keep the rattle.
I have felt the weight of resignation
the suffocating heat of the fields,
the splintered handle of the shovel
that both plants and buries,
and the chores that must be done,
sunrise and sunset, no matter what else
has happened.
Judy Ireland’s poetry benefits from the barefaced authenticity of the Midwest's working class culture, and the lush excesses of South Florida, where she currently lives and works. Her poems have appeared in Calyx, Saranac Review, Eclipse, Cold Mountain, Hotel Amerika, and other journals. Her book, Cement Shoes, won the 2013 Sinclair Poetry Prize, and was published in 2014 by Evening Street Press.