Humbleness became a virtue as the rays of the sun licked the earth
and made dust of the soil. Only the rocks remain red
and the bricks; they made every building in this Free State civilized.
How much blood can a square stone hold?
They nearly invisible and barred, separated by masons’ mortar.
Kansas, can you see the blisters of our stars cloaked in navy and noble causes?
Our faces wet with regret, we fold our hands before us like teepees
and beg for grace. We recite the Parable of the Sower in pilgrim and pioneer
cadence. Who will remember the ancient maps before the Milky Way?
The South Winds have marched west and the wheat whittles what was.
— DaMaris B. Hill