shuddering
collapsed in you pack
like an earth shaken
adirondack
drafting the monsters
like the pen of maurice sendak
you pointed your bow towards
the forehead of the sea
and vowed you'd never come back
but the dirt swallowed
your name
spewed it up like a smokestack
now finding inner peace
is like that slippery sliver
in a haystack
but you're not a farmer
it's been a long time
since you've touched the grass
you're living your life
with the freedom of a hall pass
out of class
wuth the home room clock
tic tocking you back
it's the sharpening of a stone
a baby's mouth, a phone call home
a festering soar, a well licked bone
we're singing our song
in the eye of the storm
