I dream an escape from dreams:
rasp of voices merging
as dirges sink stones and sand,
proclaiming:
the meek will not inherit the earth.
My oblations fester
like a plucked hyacinth,
rejected and squashed on a drizzly day,
while fire and rain share the need to share
and The Earth unearths a secret–a distorted face,
revealed by morning, infected by night–
I know it’s mine.
I can unknow it.
