These fields we’ve known –
They are Me and I am Them.
Death everywhere, inglorious.

Overland, the horizon –
as wayward danger awaits underfoot.
Without delay,
without a word,
we send another for
the lost messenger.

Remember
the swing bridge over
the Red River?
None went in after
the one swept under.

Overland, the horizon –
as wayward danger awaits underfoot.
Without delay,
without a word,
we send another for
the lost messenger.

That cable gave –
she sank swift as stone
drawn down alone among
the breathless below
.
Shades of flesh and bone.
Seed husks,
petals pressed in mud.
Now, Go.
And bring her home.

Overland, the horizon –
as wayward danger awaits underfoot.
Without delay,
without a word,
we send another for
the lost messenger –

– and another for the lost messenger
– and another for the lost messenger
– and another for the lost messenger

© 2020.