We plant and we plant

Leon Trotsky, Oakleaf hydrangea, pencil drawing, Religion, Spring Buds

budsMy eyes are clenched.

Throat-scorched with car pipe fumes

and with rusted sounds

from last week.

The trip was wrong and

the news worse.

We plant and we plant.

I hear muted sounds of

cries and wish I could open

my heart and pour its life

– a drink of god.

Lend my body, make it

fertilizer and give my

eyes to see ahead.

Touch warm. Feel cold.

The ground is cold and

smiles fade brown.

Sleep and dream of blue birds

and cloud-shaped

boats.

We plant and we plant.

2012 Barry Comer – Illustration 2015