MOWING LIES

We must meet in a toast you gave to me that other morning in the wood where the boughs of the woodlot are ragged and snagged with ice.

When you were gone I filled a glass with water and put the sunflower seeds in it and made this toast to you.

And then I wiped the water off of my cheek and put the sunflower seeds in a pile on the counter, and put the water in the sink.

When you came back that afternoon I told you that you should stick your fist out of the car window to prove that you were alive.

I wondered if you heard.

We must mow a grass lot of lies through, we will be mowing that grass lot a grass lot, lying.

It will be grass, lying on a hay, who at the base of that hay, dead in all her glory of flying away.

There will be broken pictures left where they fall, so many broken pictures that they fall to one side and miss the pictures they meet and forget about those they lose.

And then we will be mowing that grass lot a grass lot, lying.

:: 10.19.2021 ::