making a place when
your energy reserves are gone
raking the grass from weeds
empty and afraid and free
seen but not heard
exit the day same as tomorrow
ready and willing
vines of truth grow new
or a dead lawn perishable soon
In a few months a half a year gone
right when the good times start
in an instant they are gone
So in a few days is your father’s funeral
don’t want road trips for reasons like this
Red steps with blood on them I can’t see
you must heal, my dear, you must heal