One Poem by Sam Dixon

Path Through Pineapples

Went out to walk the rural dark
on a hushed and hypnotic road
beside slumberous fields
of Uthai Thani,

the germinal night air, the warm breeze
a phantom coquette at my ear and neck

all quiet as I go
no northern Thailand nocturne screech
no side-startling tiger paw’s creep

when at long black rows of
orderly pineapples I stop—
there is soft Thai music distantly playing—

it’s the python-skinned saw-duang’s
high mournful fiddling,
a sad singer’s ballad voice,
where the tiny dimple of light
might be a thatch hut’s oil lamp
or a country store’s lone midnight radio
or the blaze of two rogue lovers there lying.

 

A native of Norton, Virginia, USA, Sam Dixon has also lived and worked overseas in Taiwan, mainland China, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Thailand, Malaysia, and Singapore. After 30 years abroad, he has returned home to his birthplace in the Virginia mountains, going full circle. His poetry can additionally be found in Plum Tree Tavern, Clinch Mountain Review, and Jimson Weed.

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