The Apple Lands
Stone-broken at the waters lip, spun
Round and starfished on this shrinking hill.
We gaze across the Apple Lands.
Distant fires rise in spirals, shifting.
The dog dance of our straying hearts
Calls us back to the razored road,
The high path we walked beneath
Cold singing stars. Now haunted by
Mute memories, shouting in signs, of
Hands once struck, and honesty pledged.
We wore these hearts, worn out with
Hope. Split shoed, striding on, we
Forgot the sound of friends,
No substitute for brothers.
Clinging tightly, we clutched to
Survive, and pulled each other under
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