Fourteen miles off road, due West,
the horizon bleeds an oil slick
that stretches out for miles like a song
that you can't quite chase from your brain
where your feet melt like glass through your boot soles
and fallen men beg for water or death-
In that dense gnawed up bit of sand
too dry to recall rain,
you left behind a single bit of silver that wormed
loose from your dusty pocket
a narrow hole that your hand had worked
in search of matches and a lone cigarette-
You've come to love twilight
in her cool, dark robes
that pour to the ground like your sorrow
for a mother that never needed and
father that never loved or even remotely understood
a colt-legged boy who'd find his own way-
Across the wind warped territory, in the small space
between here and there
you've dragged your fingers through deeper earth
a resting place, a womb for bleached bones
the low restless hum that never was,
that never existed anywhere but in your skull-
Miles and years from here, like age
that cuts the corner of your eyes to slits
makes no promises to those without spines
bites like lead scathes the flesh
is a face that no tree will shade or hand hold down
that no looming ghost dare cross-
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
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