Krista Genevieve Farris
No Detectable Cancer
How many strokes does it take for the Dyson to choke-down
a mountain feist hair embedded in the low pile wool rug?
Electricity rushes the whirring brush- I lurch. I pull back.
I see your lips move. Is this drowning my reverie?
I'm in a cornfield behind my childhood home–
months after the Hoosier harvest.
How many times did the combine pass
to break the stalks, snatch the seed?
Red lightning strikes where the sun should have set–
shocks my wintering body. I seize.
The feist barks at the snarling vacuum–
the sucking breath, prehensile cord.
Krista Genevieve Farris writes about whatever tickles her not-so-fancy from her perch at the top of the Shenandoah Valley in Winchester, Virginia. Links to Krista's essays, poems and stories can be found at https://kristagenevievefarris.wordpress.com/.