3

a good-bye to prairie
will miss the dry grasses in head
claws are finally sweaty
pin grows inwards

windows waxen yellow and foreign pillows
other side cries to be broken and vertically crossed
stolen dimes are antiques mock through isolation
soft pushes recalls sudden evening, winter's coffin.

the Sin resides beneath the dripping Lament
of dear Birds who flew before the Birth
and thousand years begone under economic lights
wealthy screams are kept in Formalin whatsoever

just nails these are collisions of humus-es
little humid drops and sun below the frozen sea
couple of wearied hair missed their Jerseys
let apply these dark team bereaved of their feet.