The sheets of moss hang like drying clothes

and envy colors every word you’ve said.

 

We took a hundred different poses before

watching the sun fragment on the horizon.

 

Before the night’s laughter settles in,

we’re back in our homes,

discussing football scores.

 

So, like the place

my brother is gripping the rails

with desire deep in his throat,

 

but the trees have turned to golden guards

and the air into a wet gift.

 

25 Oct 08

Natural Laws

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