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Ground

 

 

Ground

 


This way rain, that way rain.

I see it from within

And stand within it.

I forget the trees standing in

 summer.

 

I forget the desert without sand.

So the desert keeps sand

Within reach.

 

Young as I was,

old as I will be...

 

I remember yesterday, the peering man.

I remember the withering of Winter gardens.

The faces in carpet.

The ground sinking into snow.

I remember trembling,

Tenant of flame.

 

This is where I come from and go:

Dancing between shadow and fire.

 

 

David Bankson

 
 

David Bankson was finalist in the 2017 Concīs Pith of Prose and Poem, and his poetry and microfiction can be found in concis, (b)oink, Thank You for Swallowing, Artifact Nouveau, Riggwelter Press, Five 2 One Magazine, etc. He lives in Texas.

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