Wednesday, February 18, 2015
The fall. The jacket fell. Not me. Not spiraling. But a straight plummet. To the salted floor. Patches. Footprints. But leave the fingers out. Not a trace. Not a taste. Leave the senses out. Filed out. Filled out. Spilled out. On the floor. Seeping into the wooden grain. Fill the frame. Till you're nothing more. Than sodded soot. Run afoot. By the foot. By the grain. Do you refrain. From what they took. You mistook. The curator. As a vile crook. All the while they defiled the robber's hand. Shaking hands. Forgotten lands. Apprehend the foreign man. Cast him out. Then let him in. Once the bastard. Now a leader. Of the clan. Torch your kin. Marbled plaster. Shape the sand. Tiny stones. Of broken bones. Now the master. Claim your throne. Take a stand. Take a seat. Rub your hands. And rest your feet. On the frontlines. On repeat. Set the landmines. Then retreat. To the forest. To the leaves. That once fell. In the sprawl. In the winter. In the fall.