washing machine

this is the start
a necklace of trees
the Chewuch River a soundtrack
borders carved by water’s edges
even the earth has curves

a door shuts
trapped in a windowless room
between bites of lunch
he argued the benefits of his pyramid scheme
this time the lure was perfume
previous closed door conversations shilled
vacuums, knives, and fire extinguishers

these moments
now shadow length memories
and quiet like fire
baptismal reflections
woven tight as narrative

from country darkness to city light
the water still glitters wickedly
we find each other in this way
our collective hardness
now exhumed as memorial
living loudly
an anthem and ritual that always repeats

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s