In Memory Of
It’s that moment of teetering
before ground meets head,
shards fly,
an internal air raid,
sirens. Silent seconds
before tornado.
No looking back to what was
hidden in dirt,
or painted grass raking jagged nails
through hair,
eyes closed
through breezes,
they open. Wide fields
of corn and cows
eating corn. Was it
soybeans?
Yes, it
matters. Skittled roadside
graveled memories
dust the wind.
The Official Website of Aaron K Crocker 
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