Tracks

I wake up whispering,

“It was not much of an offering.”

Snow soft-shoes the glass.

 

…….

 

A boy mumbles in the closet,

“Forgive me father for I have sinned.”

Lied. Swore. Hit my brother.

 

…….

 

Thinking about crow’s change

I give meaning to the snow-powdered carcass;

build an altar with twigs.

 

…….

 

I dream of a former boss.

He asks me, “What do you dream?

What are your nightmares?”

 

 

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