IN BARREN BONE
They. They. Maketh me lie down
in green pastures? Of plenty? Hear
the bells ringing again o'er the hill.
I have walked, just today, 14 miles
to make this pay. A trek like that
induces real need. I am delirious
now, and seeing things and thirsty
and hungry too. Can you help me?
My tribe is gone; they have killed
them all. A fire-swept politics of
sides, a taciturn dissent; it all ends
up as death no matter. Just me,
alone, left, to tell you all this.
From Barren Bone, which
was my home.