Poetry · Writing

re(turn) to an empty church

they worry;

wonder where –

wonder where – they’ve gone

leader to the silent prayer

like a roach with poison.

they still love, you

carefully manufactured poison

with love, but you must

know

you’re an imagineer

carrier of this art, this message

this this this-

you carried everything, in place

not a scratch a dent

the burnt pages were dealt with care-

never questioning

never wondering

just- keeping.

you worried, they appreciated

they’re back – in silence

Poetry · Writing

four apples

hands behind my back

these aren’t the apples

i was looking for

i remember

the strength leavin’ my tips

for four straight nights

four bars over four moons

this cell is my home

brought an apple every fourth hour

four steps in four steps out

just the white lines on the stone ground,

they were different four days ago

is this

granny smith