photo by Katherine Du Tiel © |
in
a thirst for trees, the supermarkets use white light
I
devour stars
tracing
spine arms
into
divine jars
scratching
glow marks
onto
an icy night
you
out there
mr
death
you
hear me beg
into
the quiet
to
be hanged
you
can kill me
any
time you want
I
am merely a product
placed
for sale
somewhere
along
a
river of shelves
and
banner regards
am
I wrong to want
something
besides
the
hot metal code
of
an expiration date
do
I belong
in
a cold storage
or
a shrink wrapped
portage
as part
of
an overdue life
expectancy
I
am not
what
I used to be
when
stardust fell
like
pollen against
a
backdrop
of
silhouetted bodies
in the near urban desert
mourning
my humanity
I
too, am thirsty
losing
my grip
on
love and
what
it means
to
know peace
as
something
not
for sale
anymore
EJR
©
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