Can you feel it?
All that you have built unraveling?
Can you feel it?
The lights in the houses flickering on then off?
Can you feel it?
The ache of limbs now unused,
The waning of the moon,
The bleating of goats that are not there
And if they were, they would not be yours,
Any longer.

What happens to the seed destroyed?
The roof tile broken upon its laying down?
What happens to the dream awoken from?
The rowboat oarless now in the receding tide?
Can you feel it?
The tightness in your chest
The picture sent and received
Opened and seen and sunken in?
The letter came, electronic, and offered the best terms that you would receive.
It seemed so real, when she had laid there next to you, enclosed by four, very real walls.
The air of the room,
The wind tamed.
The noise outside
And within.
Over the field, she blows herself.

What happens to the seed destroyed,
The moonlit night unbridled?

More: Poetry

[The photo above is from the road to Death Valley, California. Taken in 2017]

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