There, they fold the days neatly away
like freshly-laundered, ironed sheets.
The women are tall, but the men are taller.
Morals flourish between corn’s straight rows.
The sun lingers longer than anywhere else
because the girls are so beautiful.
Neighbors raise each other’s barns
in timed competitions for schnapps.
Each genealogy is read in the face,
births, baptisms, weddings, funerals.
The steeples outnumber the shadows,
though folks avoid the full moon’s glare.
There, your passport is stamped in blood.
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