broken leaves

scrub a hand through broken leaves,

and tell me it's not at all what it seems

circling thunder like a sickening rumble

through and under and overneath the gardens

like weeds

endless grasping gurgling gnarled knowing

ruts and holes and empty open words

meaningless now that they've touched the sky

like wingtips

hissing over the weight of the wind,

forthcoming and foregoing and forgetting

it's different when you're around and even

differenter when you're not, but it's all

so endlessly confusing

when i'm built of mud and soot and loose limbs

fold me up into a box,

and let me get rained on.

scrub a hand through broken leaves,

and tell me it's not at all what it seems