Monday, April 19, 2010

The fallow times
Breathe through
Windstorm minds
Arid fields of furrow
Deep rows up and back.
Thinking endless days
Without rain throat thoughts
Of sleepers dark nest
Along interstate truck stops.

I wanted it hard,
The bite of eyes
Taunting me to love.

When she came into the room
Toweled and clean but for the scars left
From the cutting years. I wanted that too. The constant pain of
Endurance for
The fallow times.

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