{..}
one could stop and smell Lily too
unlike the rose, but akin.
the blinding scream of children
“Will you harbor me?”
dead trees line up crisscross across
sandy desert floor down whiskey creek
shadows growing longer
footprints ever-which-way
little children still playing
middle teens still swaying
twenties thinking
suicide? or box themselves away?
Christina Green
Daniel rowed his boat ashore
Amy Good Man reports
still they listen still they pray
some fasting many days away
and what do you fast for brother & sister?
and do you do it in public
for self aggrandizement
or for the children
screaming?
heart on the floor will you join me
one moment
pickup whomsoever needs it?
be sure to smell Easter Lily when she comes
’round the mountain when she comes
and
should she arrive too late or never
remember the smell
breathe in breathe out…
there she is!