elise.writer

and I pound my feet along my mother's bare back
each vertebrae a pumpkin spice leaf
a lemon leaf, pound our feet along the lemon drops
sugarcoated, our heels skim the fractals away, dig into the mud

I simply don't understand. What ever happened to make us shatter like this?
Who ever let our nation crumble under its own weight?
America's name holds finesse and grace.
Brings to mind a united nation, strong and bold and swift.

Our grandpa's flannel, red and black will cross
                   and blend in wrinkled smiles, passed
through generations. We've just hobbled
over the peak, and the red leaves march

I thought that I could reach out my hand
and grasp the pain
clench my fist tight
and let it seep through my fingers like water.
I thought that when you would leave
I could feel your absence
tangible and tender and evolving

the heart can be pierced and wounded,
but the blood will still run through.
the blood will still run through, why still?
what holds the heart up, still?
as broken and cracked and punctured