Cameras Stole this Habitat
Cameras stole this habitat of lilac crested mildew, forcing a fast walking pace over a slow run. A homecoming of banners at half-mast, a laundry of lights, wilting fireworks against pictures patched together in liquid sleep. Too cold for leaning, I huddled, knees breaching hail-scattered ground. Everyday, hills provide inclines damaging my resolve. Midmorning wheezing leaves me wondering thoughts of emancipation. Cotton separates dank plagues, interring their followers of little hope; far from sunlight and daisies. Pen held raised to your guitar. Bones kept under England’s soil with eyes stoking every blade left at the roadside. I wear memories of you like a suit of splintered glass. The acids collecting in my legs bare down on me like a knife struck across the heel.