Linoleum Scars
Touching kitchen floor,
you airs felt of psalm:
to unravel, tracing night
mist, unworthy rulings that made
a lie of all this civil pretense,
all this useless rib cage mending
that makes wine-water bitter,
throws out breaking bathwater,
stills the swirl of reckonings deep.
Memory looms, cicada chirp background,
brush of hair in old breeze,
as I take the first cursing
breaths, longing for ache to end
and be put away, war medals
in the chest for another month’s march.
