tiffany

on the edge of a cornfield

runs a hidden creek

an embellished drainage ditch

sunk down into the land

like a deep wrinkled scar

on an old farmer’s sun-cracked face

winding past backyards and pastures

a small cemetery plot and silos

babbling over boulders and pebbles

schools of hogsuckers and carp

bullfrogs, turtles, water snakes

and the great blue heron

through swarms of dragonflies and mosquitoes

black flies and clusters of gnats

passing web covered branches

stretching from untrodden banks

filled in with ferns and poison ivy

where mushrooms go unhunted

and varmints thrive

muskrat, possum, and mole

only stars of light spitting through

the leafy fingers

of the overhanging trees

the sound of cicadas

buzz like a ghost

as an empty shell clings to a branch

lifeless and pale

and in the brush

in a cove

off the creek where no one sees

is where they left her body

on the day she disappeared

***

J. Chad Kebrdle is a professor of English at Ancilla College in Northern Indiana. He holds a BA in English from Ball State University, a MA in Liberal Studies from Indiana University Kokomo, and an MFA in Creative Writing from the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at Naropa University. He is a poetry editor at Burningword Literary Journal where he has also published along with From the Wellhouse, A Common Thread, and Toasted Cheese. He lives in an old farmhouse in a used-to-be town between two wanna-be cities where he draws his inspiration.