the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Soft Dirt

I planted jaunty flowers
As worms devoured her grave.
This is no way
For a grown boy to behave.
So now,
I've become a slave of a man
To something I can't understand.

I've been digging holes
And finding traps,
A golden coin on iron snaps.
Just look away,
Avoid the hurt,
Or run your dirty fingers
Through the cool, soft dirt.

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