I bargained for a place to stay
where I could press my soles to pray.
The sheets are clean and steeped in sleep;
I dream of red clay bones beneath

the roots of pine and maple trees.
Barefoot in grass patrolling in these
infested lands of red and green.
My autumn promise to go slow.

It leaves me silent and on-guard.
I can't be sure my lungs still work
until I feel summer undone.
The air is so woolen, I choke.

10/05/2004

Posted on 04/08/2006
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