In Memory Of

wheat-175960

 

It’s that moment of teetering

before ground meets head,

shards fly,

an internal air raid,

sirens. Silent seconds

before tornado.

No looking back to what was

hidden in dirt,

or painted grass raking jagged nails

through hair,

eyes closed

through breezes,

they open. Wide fields

of corn and cows

eating corn. Was it

soybeans?

Yes, it

matters. Skittled roadside

graveled memories

dust the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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