this will be my year

blood and famine
and small crucifixions
and there is nothing i can do
to stop any of it

the shadows of birds
across
the walls of this room

the names of the dead
written on tiny scraps of paper

buried by the water’s edge
but nothing grows and
nothing grows and
nothing grows

and it’s october
and the wind cries all night

tears your face from my mind
and then it’s november

the missing girl turns
seventeen

her parents walk away
from their religion

let the flowers
fall from their hands and
gather up whatever bones
they can and i have no

This content is for Basic Member, Friends of Burningword 3-Day Pass, Friends of Burningword 3-Month Subscription, and Friends of Burningword Annual Subscription members.
Log In Register
Listed at Duotrope
Listed with Poets & Writers
CLMP Member
List with Art Deadline
Follow us on MagCloud
%d bloggers like this: