Grounded

Grounded

— to the students in the hall parsing justification & sanctification

When we first moved in to his Father-

in-law’s place, he laid out for us 

how—long as we didn’t mind—he’d keep on 

mowing through the property line dividing 

the field; he’d always done it 

and he had the time. We shook hands 

on the porch and it was a done deal,

but not the grass, which grows real fast

around here. In ensuing years 

we had babies and painted rooms 

to the roar of his Toro motor, 

each summer a bit louder as he did 

exactly what he said but also edged

one strip closer to the house, closer, closer, 

till we joked about how pretty soon 

we could sell our mower, living on the land 

of a man who wants nothing more

than to blow over our boundaries, his love 

dissatisfied till we no longer feel the weight

of our obligations and the lawn is cut

low enough  for no serpent to hide,

the girls set free to run barefoot

beneath the oak tree, fearless.