today is sixty paces south of heaven
reaching skyward.
here is dust in my lungs
and earth on my tongue
and half a hallelujah
strangled somewhere in my throat.
here is the ghost of every god
i ever believed in.

i fill my mouth with
promises and dirt
so there is no space left for poison.
there is no space left for anything,
but some days even breathing is a chore and
staying alive is the best i can do.
today i choke the gravel down with water because
today i can do better.

today is sixty paces south of heaven
and the stars are only glitter
and every lie i ever told curls up through thick summer air
and dissipates like smoke.
here are outstretched arms
and ***** fingers,
and here, slithering through the tall grass,
is a soft unknown that feels an awful lot like
hope.