Canvas curtains with
Buttons of rice.
Hold melting floors while
Starched souls stand in the corner and
Their judgments fly.
Half held truths
Debase the morning sky and
Silence screams in my eyes while
Cut grass fragrance pervades my thoughts.
When will it all come together?
When will it stop?
The quiet death
Underwrites my soul while
Soft subtle shapes
Shift and take me with them.
And when the shapes settle, the past becomes the one and only
Place where I can breathe.
But I can’t go back there and all else has failed.
Why did you come back? just to leave again?
Why? Did you forget to take something? I can’t imagine what
There is nothing left.…