x
Claustrophobia sets in.
She muscles out of the dirt.
Can she really summon the determination
to shed the wasted dollars?
smells more of bread than meat.
Too clever to read the odor’s intent,
but followed, begging
ruined sap
low and hot
growling – The wolves came
nuzzled your crotch
talking backward
until the old stairs fell
around the red maple
grown through the floor.
Take your passage then,
wallow all day in bed and
speak when summoned,
feet on cold wet floor
remembered, clutched the post
and spoke remembering –
The moths in the old stone church
glad to be done
with the Paraclete’s bickering.
Silent, finished,
roaming her legs again for grace.
Still, the mourners in a line proceed,
scarfheaded and faking it
in digital clicks
like teeth broken in
bread not meat.
Welcome to quicklime and virus
and the coming green.
Jake Berry 11.6.06
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