Two poems by David Shumate

David Shumate lives in Zionsville, Indiana. His first book of prose poems, High Water Mark was published in 2004 by University of Pittsburgh Press. It subsequently won the Agnes Lynch Starrett prize. In 2008 a second book of his poems was also published by University of Pittsburgh Press titled The Floating Bridge. He teaches at Marian College.













The Rain

I suppose after the heavens and the earth I too would have
created Adam and Eve. Or some pair of innocents like them.
The first food would have been grapes, and of those they
could have partaken freely. I would have bestowed on them a
sense of humor and encouraged practical jokes. I would have
let them learn about procreation on their own and practice it
without shame. When they had a dozen children or so, when
their hair had turned to gray, I would have shown them the
way out to the sea. They could have traveled there often and
written about it to their children's children. Some of their
letters might have survived and these would be holy texts. Who
knows? With a few small changes, things might be different
today. But the rain . . . The rain . . . Now that was truly
inspired. I would never have thought of that. Not in a million
years.




The Bible Belt

It's a vast and fertile land. Soybeans and corn grow in this soil.
Wheat and tobacco. A little sorghum. It's not dramatic terrain
with ocean waves crashing against the cliffs. It's mostly gently
rolling plains. Long stretches of prairie. You know you've entered
it when the signs along the highway begin telling you what God
wants you to do. Those who live here regard it as their duty to
make these things known. Otherwise the rest of the country
would be left in the dark. The bibles in this region are larger than
elsewhere. Most weigh over a hundred pounds. It takes two strong
men to lift them into a pickup truck to haul off to church. All the
women dress up on Sundays. And all the white men shake hands.



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