what rounds a hard day
as if the slow knife
pops suddenly
an innocent skin
a hushed wincing
shame of what falls
shadow & burning truths
a genuine turn
of grief
cut in a boat
untethered
does it matter
to the far shore
the press of a foot
Clothed in roots and fire
Clothed in roots and fire
when the dead are buried
& their ghosts sleep
in stars
the light still bends at the stone
& sorrow grinds
the price of blooms
how she
carries the question we cannot bear
Clothed in roots and fire
Clothed in roots and fire
fire
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