This Heady Weight of Others

spring melts into summer’s light proving wrong that still despair, chilled in winter’s heart, has corroded to the marrow for even poppies bloom in broken fields and shell holes bones blanketed in shrouds of moss trill of larks cross no man’s land as pollen floats out lazy over fields fuzzed with sprouts and turned earth windblossoms mazy crisscrossed blown like crimson tracers cicadas drone their symphonies calling humid waves warping off fields like sultry wraiths moaning at dead eyed cocks on broken weathervanes cats, lazy from the heat, retreat to hidden nooks détente with bird and squirrel water oaths held dear water ripples on silent streams tracing gusts like a rolling barrage of cotton ingots heavy with odors of stratosphere, of faraway places tearing at the heart’s windsock wet bulb heat folded in cumulous divebombed by nectar laden bees crazy for the blossoms soaked and sultry queenright days a story, sad songs decibels rung in high towers echelons above reality sung to tone deaf and dusty gods skies clear of dark storm crows now becoming past soon becoming now then slides to never as photographs fade at times it’s too much this heady weight of others moments like whispers gone while standing windburnt on hillsides barren and mass wasted somewhere distant wardrums beat our racial folie à deux...