Instagram – May 29, 2017 at 07:55PM

Ground-up snow packed in an old tin coffee cup
Baked enamel finish
Pale chipped yellow
Leaching metallic poisons that cling to the roof of my mouth
Tasting of hiding places and bitter regret
Clods of pillow-soft centuries cry for seeds
Cry for worms
Cry for nitrogen
But not for me
Not until the scattering is complete
Not until they burn this peacock from my cup
I’ll bend nails in sideshows
And search for suburbs
Ten for a dollar
Ten for a nickel
Ten for a penny
Ten for a match
Erosion is our softest dream
I was a road
I cracked and crumbled
I was speared by savage grasses
And overrun by bracken
Devoured by rest
A trace
And soon
Not even
But ground
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