Strap it On

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harvest moon
in my front yard
not in my backyard

in the barren field
I yielded
chill runs swiftly
through hollow
bones unrestrained
like water
emptying into
emptiness

beneath
the harvest moon
I lit the scarecrow
on fire
for warmth
and briefly
for relief
from the bitter cold

in the barren field
I yielded
like a shadow
passing through
my own life
a memory
of a memory
from someone
else’s life

let you know
when I get there

 

 

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