What the Valley Told Me

Wedging between the cracks
that run through the range,

find a clearing, evergreens:
Shangri-La for our dirty arms,

weak minds. Raise what
is gone, find a way to re-purpose…

Finding a rush from darkness
in his eyes, a glare and grip

that can’t be defied, hidden
in the chipped siding

from a wooden house, painted
mint green–the shakes

in the floorboards, the splinters
we catch carelessly together…

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