during the summer
my landlord pays me fifteen an hour
back-breaking work
in upkeeping his farm
 he can’t see so well anymore
refuses to admit that
he’s wearing down
none of his kids will help
bolstered in independence with degrees

why should they
I’m here to work against
his eighteen hundred dollar rent

in the end
he’ll die knowing his land
will fall into the laps
of those that couldn’t care less
with the upkeep
of a dead man’s farm