Home in the Dirt of Light
is a short season bloom.
Even the sun is saddened by
her tongues quick strokes of
color on thorns, the way
her voice’s sabbatical screech
stops you like
the rest of her does,
ear to the ground,
deaf to the sky,
the next leaf breaking
growing you like
hunger does, a
home in the
dirt of light.
Some say peace slows suffering down
training the breath for a cardiac crush
as the weight of words in the back of my throat
bench press the mind with demonic decrees
to be better & bigger & louder than souls
sucked from the world through trailer park doors.
I believe quiet helps weakness give way
the way wind drops a tree in the ocean’s black mouth
the way terror resists a pastoral need
to make bone into wood designed by decay.
For you & Death I’d do anything
to protect your holy vow
your sweat worn blood born aria of dreams
shredding the sky with the last alleluia
as it tries to survive the downward pull
of all the promising parts of me
flat on their back out of space out of time
where I first fell in love with you.