Poppies
It was the 60’s. It was Wisconsin. Or was it Idaho?
It was the 60’s. It was Wisconsin. Or was it Idaho?
Small hands pruny with huckleberries. Walked along a trail by the fishing hole.
Always wanting to be alone, even at eight. But being alone,
that used to be an adventure that led to tasty morsels
Ripe and juicy like every new day
When did devouring time become so ugly and monotonous?
When did eating from the palm of nature become
Bleeding flower pods
With desperation and precision
Did you know that in between your untrained hand scrawling
your beautiful huckleberry day
And your shaking hands crawling up your arm for that warm feeling
In between that, you had a daughter? Had a son?
But. You always want to be alone