With the subtle movement of an
eyelid you
Dream me into being imagine me a
luckless
Hunter returning from the desecrated
woods
Of childhood toting my father’s war rifle
You see my eyes have somehow trapped
Yesterday’s light you see I grin freely
without
Hope when I get close and lean
toward your
Lowered voice my wool shirt smelling of
cold
Oak leaves and sweat and then you're
walking
Down the gravel road you think I grew
up on
You find me standing in a field of pine
stumps
Listening for a forbidden word I don't know
How to say always the same empty sound
Shaken by the arbitrary distances
between us
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