Cracked Song For Dirty Boots

for Nimal Dunuhinga

This tree

grows still

a child's mind

a bedroom window

This house

this window

gone but for

frames crater

now

once was

home memory's

red dirt

O stand radiant-starred late afternoon

O stained stark shadows' black frieze

astonished stooped man

time's wee piss-boy

damp bunk-bed mattress fears

O stand glazed from edges

gaze to bark

vine maps of escape.

Iron shadows

impress long into

wet pit

sun shards

spy glass

throat sore

Cracked song for dirty boots

poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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