Fox kit on the St. Lewis access road.
this family was knit with twine
laced with careful yet time-worn fingers
prepared as a duty
patterned by past confessions
the holes sewn feverishly
should we get lost in the storm
no one can say
we didn’t try our best
no one can say
our net wasn’t cast long or hard enough
we sit idly by in this ship
comparing ourselves to the others
as we go down without words
pretending, as a duty
that the twine was enough.
M.
Bursts of birds billow against the sharp winter sun
And I,
Navigate fields of coarse blonde hair,
Lost in the nothingness.
Frost shatters all corners,
Life moves slowly and with purpose;
A lover’s hand it’s equal.
We meander through these feelings,
testing the weight of our tongues
against the truth.
M.
In this life I am the after and
I’m Labrador and pepper, butter and oranges
I made no mistake, I know where I stand
I’m minutes, I’m flowers
When the funeral is done
Imagine seeing me at my best
I’m me,
After you,
After and.
M.
