it galumphs in
and sprawls among the wallflowers
who wilt while waiting
mud
any child knows life’s
a puddle for jumping into
a muddled matter
masses: flight
it appears to be
a grid of structures on
a tan to deep brown
the way of all flesh 22
in the end, the child
murmuring, “callooh, callay,”
drifts into stillness
the way of all flesh 21
the queen, frozen in
the lie of her sovereign
freedom from the flesh
the way of all flesh 20
the unfiltered sun
blazes beyond color in
the black emptiness
the way of all flesh 19
sitting looking at
shadows and light on the walls
rolling my foot on
the way of all flesh 18
the slanted shadow
of the plane tree on the street
returns each morning
the way of all flesh 17
the rain on my face
spatters hellos and goodbyes
into the background
the way of all flesh 16
awakening but
not getting up, lying flat
and still, on my back
