I cannot shake
This sand from my
Fingers
Thumb rolls
Against finger tip
And sand
Collapses
Into ash
Heart soft
Slow
Gentle roll
Of tear on cheek
No gush
No leak
Just a little creak
As I adjust
To what is
Sit
Deep in the loam
Feel
Deep in my bones
The dance
Of death and decay
With the seed’s sweet urge
To sprout
But they are frustrated
Death does not come
Seed does not
Sprout
Maybe these tears
Will bring about
The release
That allows
Death and life
To progress
Maybe
They already are
And I am looking
In all the wrong
Places
Helpless
Nothing is wrong
Held
Nothing is wrong
Tip of the tongue
Sparked with sweet
As the sides
Squeeze
With the bitterness
Of it all
Yet
I must eat
Human
Body
Finite
I must eat
Broken glass
Fresh grass
I must eat
Thank God
For this moment
To just be
Feel the warmth
And cold
Mix inside of me
Catch the sliver
Of the sun on the horizon
Before blindness
Returns
And my feet turn
To the mechanics
Of gain and loss
Comfort and strain
Fighting against
Time’s
Incessant
Movement
Of perception’s
Window
Pane