transgression

two oxen pull grass
with yellowed teeth.
chewing lazily in
midday sun.

light dances off golden
stacks of wheat. sweat beading upon
brown brows. I cannot tell
from here, if they are farmers
or slaves.

a man and a woman, side by side.
backs breaking under
the weight of their travail.
the frenetic pace never slows.

the man swings the scythe.
the woman with the hitch
in her gait, gathers the
freshly mauled grain.

swatting the oxen as
they pull at the golden
treat. a man and a woman
kick off their shoes. tilt hats

over their eyes, lie back on
a pile of hay. sun dancing,
sweat beading, they fall asleep.
the only place that they
are free.