it began with hope
to reach that time between two stars
so far over the sacred hills
the past was changed to change the landscape
I carry rubble, rough concrete
in a pocket
a pebble, smooth as a scar
in my brain
shiny as a gleaming pot
so poisoned no one can eat from it
so clean to touch to sniff and see
a handful of stones is my empire
a mouthful of souls is my tribe
we're safe they say
but our hearts never did get out of that house in time...
Comments are closed.