Norway Pine, Minnesota

Out in a barren field where

She’s forgotten

Her brilliance faded

Her enthusiasm fallen,

Through the cracked dirt floor

Beneath the floors I walk


She sees flowers.


Just like her

     I want all the beauty

     I want all the wisdom

     I want all of life

The danger, the comfort,

The painful, the caring

The oppressing dark

The humanizing light.


Torn fragments of my heart

Mourn her loss

I read her words

Try to consume her incessant power

The power of words, words, words.

Her greatness, her wisdom,

The fight that she fought.

It hurts.


Fiction or non,

I walk in her shoes

I walk in her way and give myself away

Seeking fulfillment, gratification,


But I fall short in the very seams of this dress I wear

Suited in fear and anxiety.


Maybe I should build a cabin

Race the darkness and disintegrate what’s left.

Build a cabin of the burnt red pine

That yearns for my touch.

Teach high school math or something.

I could use my hands,

Raise my palms up out of the dust

And the roaring stillness

That escorts my lust.


My palms are smooth though.

There was a time when I believed

     “My soul is too rough”

Branded by daggers and cold to the touch.

But it’s not.


Maybe I should build a cabin

In the barren field

With the fallen brilliance of Marina Keegan

the danger, the pain

the oppressing dark

the fragments of my troubled heart.


And out in that barren field,

I’ll see flowers.


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