grief
where will the spirit go
when we sink into the mud
will it return to the earth
to the sea and the sky
- like everything else
born of this world
will like call to like?
and where will the song go
that melody lodged in my throat
that is both the pain and the
white pill slicked in syrup
- like everything else
born of humankind
will it seep into our tangled roots?
but where will the heart go
that stranger inside my chest
that voyeur of death
that child lock on the little orange bottle
- like everything else
vile and depraved
it beats
on
and
on.
- anon