Summer Elegy For Americans
What do you say
To the end of summer
When you feel the grass dead
And your tenderness
Wanders
Off?
Off the edge.
That feeling like
Sweating in the marrow
Of your swollen
Bones
You came home too late
to see the sun
Passing the weary
Trees
It was too much
Like minerals
And earth pressing
Against your skin.
Dredge up
The motion
Deep from the
Bottom of a
Low lying
River
The valley telling stories
That you thought
You knew.
Called the air down
Around you
Laden with open windows
Lashed with temptations
Listening to the end of the world
Tom Waits
Waiting to play
Your funeral
Lost nation
On the side of the road,
Your hair spilling down your
Dirty back.
No comments:
Post a Comment