True Story
They stepped into the forest
To dig up a house
Out from the wind
Pushed it down to the soil
Which died choked
By red, dusty spores
The river’s running down
Through a moist slide
Twisted into whine
What’s left? Cracks
Drowned in salt
While there’s some light
Long not for the ones
Looking up with a glare
Shrinking infinity (again)
To make it fit
On the back of their heads
Like a new hat, with a hare
If there’s not a book in the shelf
They walked into the woods
Every step stayed to feast
It holds until the end
Yet the forest turned to sand
Again…
Now memories burn
And flashbacks frequently come
Rain could help
But yellow thoughts scream loudly
Long time since she ran away
[This happened....and it keeps happening]
Copyright © Cesar Cantu | Year Posted 2009
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