Monday, January 20, 2020

Preparing for the Avalanch

How I wish I were indigenous!
How long does it take to put down roots?
Can everything be replaced,

including the blighted rose?.
The briar puts out new shoots,
making me feel I’m indigenous

to this place, in my new day
and in my coffin suit.
“Everything can be replaced,

yet every distance is not near,” they say.
I’ll play five toots on my nose flute,
even though I’m experiencing breathlessness

up here on the great divide. A transitionist
would say it’s pretty cute
of me to show my smiling face

out here at all, when I’m a complete recluse.
I’ll own the truth.
I have no claim to be indigenous.
Nothing can be replaced.