On the third floor of the building that
built Knox County I was falling out
of a doorway covered in tears over
your dead body.
Collapsing into a darkened room she push
-ed me to sit as her coffee cup ran across
the classroom floor and did not break. it
must be made of steel
A bond between rivers. Between the gone and
those of us not yet dead. A communication
through the ether of changing weather patterns.
Ships, barges, and cranes igniting our
lives through porcelain vessels filled
with polluted water for the sake of sakes.
The hammering of life must go on.
