Back and Forth

Suzanne Morris

January 21, 2024

On a sultry July afternoon

I watch

a weathered, brown-skinned man– 

I do not know his name– 

drive a riding mower

back and forth, back and forth

over the scraggly lawn.

He wears a long-sleeved shirt,

work gloves, and

a floppy-brimmed hat with

stained sweatband.

His face is concealed

behind sun shades;

a bandana covers his

nose to his chin.

As he rides back and forth,

back and forth,

shaving long, uniform stripes

from the grass,

I’m thinking of the ICE raid

set for Sunday–

it’s been all over the news– 

and I wonder if he is

a target for deportation

or even if not, perhaps his

wife, or parent, child or grandchild

will be gone from his side

by Monday.

How do you say

Peace be with you, come Sunday

in Spanish? I wonder.

Just stay inside your house

and refuse to answer the door. 

But then I imagine panic rising

like the cloud of dust behind him

as he fears I am about to

pick up the phone.

How do you say,  Don’t worry,

my friend?

Back and forth, back and forth,

he goes

until all the grass is

cut down to size,

and the man has vanished

as though he had never been here.

Suzanne Morris is a novelist with eight published works and a poet.  Her poems have appeared in numerous anthologies, and online poetry journals including, The Texas Poetry Assignment, The New Verse News, and Stone Poetry Quarterly.  Ms. Morris resides in Cherokee County, Texas.