With paper bags you gathered up the ash
It’s what remains of everything you had
Memories can’t last forevermore
and some fade away in a fever’s fervent roar

And my heat shot up and got stuck in a lock
Slipshot and birch rot, wood-burning birch bark
I see the morning lark chasing the pitch dark.

You found new wine but left it out to sour
The kool aid summer slipping out by hour
A million puzzle pieces on the floor
Ten thousand lights outside the door

And my bones grew old and shook in the cold
watered-down faces, and water fowl chasing
Ain’t it amazing?



One Comment so far. Leave a comment below.
  1. Henry Lewis,

    Strong images, powerful. Thought-provoking words. Thank you.

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