Elegy 10
       

The needle is fading and the haystack is drifting
As we kneel at the base of the field family members resume
their spiritual instruction among morasses of orange :
I can't take seriously when the family insists on orange
as its favorite color though of this memory they constantly claim ignorance

The hay at the edge of the haystacks billows out like expired
sleep meds under an aesthetically forgettable sunset
All our journals lie prostrate and smeared with ash As the day
grays over and future avenues appear mid-revery the family
continues on in high tones about some upcoming

confrontation in the wilderness Again we kneel but the chosen
have already revealed themselves navigating their escapist
glades : a mere two decades till afterlife Un-haylike
the family weeps soft focus already half outside itself

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from Salt Hill
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