the stain heaving in rain,
the water’s small words
congregating outside the window,
spattering first lines,
blades of grass cutting the glass
into a spoor of ghosts,
invisible bones in the flesh of
my underground country.
the stain heaving in rain,
the water’s small words
congregating outside the window,
spattering first lines,
blades of grass cutting the glass
into a spoor of ghosts,
invisible bones in the flesh of
my underground country.
