they died
or they helped the dying
become a puzzle, to not merge
they cried
and run to protect
their own life on the thinnest verge
then hid
up there, the wooden cabin
over the trees, schoolhouse of rust
scared
of scary, of their own hands
bathed in blood and strange lust
a deep fall
a Noah wronging no arc
and love that ends up in the dust
I’m lost
in so much red and darkness
kneeling with them, kneading past
at five
I’m leaving, it was hard
how to clean up a soul in mud?