a poem a day for four days | day 3



What direction are you now from this Nordic mountain house?

dusty, vacant
chipping beamwork,
capsized cabin.

No matter the route -
Just follow me down,
to the boat that needs an anchor,
though she floats
bold balloon
only just above the ground.
siphoned death weight,
midday waverin
black eyed crater.

that parallel: my closest cousin
folded me ‘round
and slit the moon into her mouth
that lofty spectator.

decadent dreamer, with cinder feet
and breath of soot
would you concede?
It signed and swore our oaths in flames
to palms of water.

four gloaming basins
carved us there

2 marionettes where, once, a tree.

cold vine bushels
past-prime fruits
scarlet guilt upon our cheeks.

Same sorta ghosts, we.

those limber
linden grove
dream thieves.


ash xo

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