Your hands lie open in the long, fresh grass.
Your stillness, diminishes the ending of this day.
You contrive to make like you’re alive
but in the setting of the sun
idle fingers, splayed in stone, render their
I expect that the experts will tell it how it was
filed away somewhere, under – unnatural causes.
How it was – was you:
Always generous, beyond all.
how typically you
to plan your own scheduled migration…
Poppy November 15th 2013