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the morning road air was like a new dress.

[their eyes were watching god]

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it was the kind of place you'd expect to see a burning bush.

[gap creek]

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i was planting tomatoes in a field, months ago. i was with a group of other people, and we crisscrossed over the rows like threads under giant fingers. walk, drop the root ball, plant down the row, then turn, on your knees, pat the earth around the plant. walk, drop, turn, kneel. after about an hour the sun came out and shriveled all our talk.
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except from one girl. when i crossed her i saw her lips moving under the brim of her hat, heard whispered words while she dropped her tomatoes into the cracked ground. i thought she was talking to herself, then maybe praying, because i almost recognized the words.
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To free you from this fear, let me explain
the reason I came here, the words I heard
that first time I felt pity for your soul
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walk, drop, turn, kneel. it was then i realized what she was reciting, reeled with the weight and length of what she'd memorized.
--
I was among those dead who are suspended,
when a lady summoned me. She was so blessed
and beautiful, I implored her to command me.
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the cantos from Dante's Inferno, all of them, beginning with the first and going on for who knows how long. we stopped after a few hours, and she wiped the sweat from her brow and began the walk back to the farmhouse, seemingly content to leave the story there, the pilgrim's journey just begun.
--
my friend, who is no friend of Fortune's, strays
on a desert slope; so many obstacles
have crossed his path, his fright has turned him back
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i woke up this morning thinking about her, wondering why i never asked why it was this she picked to remember, every word, to hum all day and into the night. a gentle girl in most respects, who sent these plants back into the ground to the tune of one man's descent into hell.