There is this green marble
Following it down
It travels
Along the depth of a sizable tongue
Even, firm
A swab of spit covers it.

It loops through corridors
Circles around the tracks of hooves
Passes by a bush of thorns
A snake hisses as we scoot
On, beyond, past
A bridge that extends off into the distance
A light flickers there
As lightning bugs glimmer on and off
Off and on
Humming into the summer.

The crack of a whistle
A crooning moan
Round eyes
Round lips.

The green marble stays a while
Immobile stable
Until the breeze of the wind
Lifts it up and out
It jumps along the length of haystacks
Climbing onto the back of ponies
Neighing, a mating call from birds
Cry into the golden hour light
Our lenses pretend to capture
Fighting into the present
We run past our own shadows
Of our ancestors
Thinking our being
Must be much like mini gods.

I shut the lips of Bibles there
Tracing blood along the lines of my lean legs
I hover in-between the tent of the sacrament
And disappear like smoke
Into the corners of the highest ceiling
While the sermon and preacher
Neck and neck carry on.

It is here
In the humid hot humiliatingly haughty sun
Where full length white gloves
Replace clout and shame
Petticoats align with virtue and grace
It is here where you train
To sit near fireplaces
Chattering for hours
Relive the mighty past
Hear words of the gospel
Prospective pets your best companion
But you might catch and eat a new animal in the
Mornin'

It is here
In the sweltering beautiful heat
Where you're from.