chimney soot
from what is burned
to keep us warm
against the cold that slowly kills
camouflage across the face
smeared to hide who and where we are
from others
who hate us for who we are and have
leftovers from the game
of playing far too hard
and wiped work from tired eyes
dirt furrowed in the trails of sweat
the soil of the week
spent struggling to strengthen
mid-marked
drawn from the earth
singed and flamed by hate
the oil suspended leaf shading
the skin with limbs that carry all
in the filthy mark of cleansing
(from the year 2000)
No comments:
Post a Comment