Charred debris drowned my sun
in a rubble blackened by a wildfire
they said, have some cash, 'be here
by tomorrow, thought dimes and hundreds
could placate my torn Achilles tendon

Listen when I shout! Salvage my sun!
Sunken in the aftermath of a downplayed
spark. All these twisted ivies and things
in me, I do not want your materialistic bling
it means dust to me, resurrect him, God

Tomorrow I blanket the shadowed
fields, tawny grasses hissing in agony
left barren by their deceased rain of serenity.
Oh, I choke on the abrasive reeds! Drawing blood
from my soiled knees, Sun, Sun, Sun