WEBVTT

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The Fear of Burial.

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"In the empty field
in the morning,

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the body waits to be claimed.

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The spirit sits beside
it on the small rock.

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Nothing comes to
give it form again.

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Think of the body's loneliness.

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At night, pacing
the sheared field

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its shadow buckled
tightly around.

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Such a long journey.

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And already, the
remote, trembling lights

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of the village, not pausing
for it as they scan the rows.

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How far away they seem,
the wooden doors, the bread

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and milk laid like
weights on the table."

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