a falling boy's
measured out footprint,
slipping in vain search
for a breadcrumb of solace
lost is spring, and green,
and bird nesting,
lost is his mother's smile,
he breathes in deeply
a memory of trees,
an afternoon sun
emptied of fertility:
a high wood on its last, teetering legs
urban air is everywhere
and wishes to be free,
but we are all carbon emissions,
separate living-dying pieces
polluted hieroglyphics
with nothing to convey,
fragments of a prayer
with nothing left to say
