Something Like That

Updated: Aug 20, 2021

drowning on tears so slow, so so so slow; fasting with morsels, starving on bits of taste— mirage and the splash of sand caress like a glove like a hand

how long after long is done how now, not then, not a wit thin, not when

semblances and resemblances and blandishments stutter to a stop sob, till later, till don't know when is again

till the ground, gash long slow, turned clods and new dark color since there was a spring and seed and something must be torn anyway.