Turns Over

The shadow is walked with infinite feet
the moment is neither flat nor fleet
when you lie with me no blanket no sheet
more a dictionary than any sentence.

Survival stretches ipso into ergo
in forms of desire not accessible to ego
deeper thinner wider with more echo
we walk in the valley of the end of shadow.

Birds gather and store their stocks without
seeing ahead of wanting to outsmart
every other animal with an appetite
the valley of shades is fed by sediment.

The loved ones with the shovel work slowly
nature is big but must be controlled
an innocent grave through its cold layers
will keep a soul until it turns holy.

Life upon life of rushed research
I pick a day like a leaf off a rose bush
then taste and throw it in a trench for composting
death turns over from gauntlet to garden.


About mrsorenson

NOT my president
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