messy wisdom

Rugs swept,
slates clean

I kissed the ground you walked on as
you trudged your feet through the mud

The clock strikes ten,
and the steady hands that once sowed our seeds
scatter their ripped roots in another’s garden

He is building shoddy palaces on our ancient burial grounds
while I handwash his dirty laundry

always cool, separate, gentle,
agitate until it’s clear