fastened to earth

the memories
come more often now
as it creeps near
morning’s golden hauntings
where dark-eyed women hunt
in the dusky shadows
of an apricot-sunrise
small, sanctified murders
hearts cut out, and left to lay
unseen, within its drifting mist
aye, she hadn’t his wings
she hadn’t his wings
and she hadn’t his stone
tied with thick, twisted sisal
wound ’round her waist
and she hadn’t his black ocean
nor its craven religion
she hadn’t his wings
she hadn’t his wings
existing, instead
somewhere, in the center
fastened to earth
nailed to its dirt, and stone
beaten by its wind-driven sand
the dust of those who’d come before us
a dimming howl, falling in ferocity
within the soul’s brittle fields
of bending reeds and tall lavender
where the blue heron
above the marsh-shimmer
muttering of love
and of a place
where the doves
never dare venture
knowing, that time
aye– time, and redemption
our forsaken compassion
the final worth of a soul
these, all we’ve ever had
these, all we’ve ever squandered, lovers

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