You are the chewing gum of God. Your
skin holds more than it meets. The heart
of you is a fool like me, broken, way out
in this owrld where most things disappear.
You are ground already and drunk, hafl-brother.
The homemade day flowers white as remembrance
root and spill like music. Daddy grieves
and aunts dance in the yard, lowering him
into the ground.
No comments:
Post a Comment