they try to bury us in their false sun and moon
you’ve traveled all their roads that lead too far
places where the architect forgot the primal plan
where I remember the Saturn sun was ever not alone
yet they all laugh when I sing such a strange song
there is only one who can sing through your windows
who speaks only in living symbols since words fail
the words that fall from clouds but look like rain
stealthy sun drying them in her bare bright hands
words streaming from above to die before they land.
Copyright © 2018 Stacey Harris