the eyes, bulging, scatter
has me gasping, fighting for fresh
the fruits hang, ripe to bursting
festered leaves swing by the creek.
gather behind the courthouse
and pick flowers for her hair
wail for mammy and pappy’s return, chile
but softly, softly.
go down and pick the red flowers by the tree
past the feet. pass the feet.
may the darkness come upon you
as the branch breaks free