by Dave Rideout
every part of me aches
joints rusted sunset orange
and bones of glass;
shrieking tarnished levers
wedged in bolted doors
trapped in – a fallen barn –
sides shorn and splintered
a heaving chest of broken ribs
wrapped ’round stale air
guts tucked in dusty stalls
a mingled kindling haystack
like a wick in a field of wax
for the crack of heaven’s whip;
a flick of flame that turns a blaze
chases termites from my veins
until i form an ashen cot
mineral rich and soil soft
then mossy bed of forest green
or mast of bark and rigid limbs
rigged with leaves to catch the wind
