beneath the roll of canvas
beneath the tumble of each hill.
ambushed.
my home.
next to the porch
and his kerosene lantern
there is another
one i have never met
never spoken of until i left
sitting quietly on the edge
the chair of the porch
tumbling
tumbling
great distances he
wishes to reach
with each rock
and forth
ever closer to tipping
his hat
his scale
tumbling into
the distant earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment