A Cargo of Green Hearts
I have gorged on the darkness
of new moon's back-turned
rejection then slept. it is not
enough to forget everything that I was
for the body is a memory too
and the earth has registered
a year's weight of my steps
across the now dried dead grass.
instead I will curl into the orbit
of my body erase the shriek of my
passage forward through
ice and nail-sharp wind ease
softly into the devouring of
my own tail. so it must be every
year, an opening to obliteration
nothing left to carry
forward but the breath
a handful of seeds and this
small thimble of love.
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