“One’s” ok, but “two’s” illegal come a night whispered,
“Run,”
Or so the grass spoke –
Run like the wind.
Run,
But always look back.
Run,
So to liberate all you’ve loved.
So too, awaits a home, only dreamt.
And she ran,
From village to village –
Blankets wrought pollen.
Carrots,
For another’s eyes.
Our baby,
The outlaw prior even born;
Hot on heal, the “department.”
And we ran,
Hopping continents –
I, so to support.
Our son,
So to survive.
My wife in wait,
Our second miracle burrowed,
Just beyond the world I’d promised,
A land, so help me, and shore we’d arrive one day.
The Department of Birth Control's hot on our heals. I've gotten my son away from where we were; but two remain and so help me, four will be reunited soon. So yes, that's where I've been and that's what I've been doing.
