PALMETTO POEM: Three Maps

1. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day when we at last begin to listen to the rustling and murmuring that rises from the grasses of the world as they beseech us to grant them reprieve. For millennia, they’ve labored to cover the dead, and now it’s their turn— just a brief sleep, they insist, and then they’ll resume their work pending the general resurrection.

by · 06/04/2017 · Comments are Disabled · Features, Palmetto Poem