Stay Put
The prairie has stolen
nothing from you
you didn’t bury yourself.
Winds continue to blow
tumbleweeds and red cushions
off two wicker chairs.
You replace them again, again—
stack broken concrete blocks
on your lap to stay put.
The prairie has stolen
nothing from you
you didn’t bury yourself.
Winds continue to blow
tumbleweeds and red cushions
off two wicker chairs.
You replace them again, again—
stack broken concrete blocks
on your lap to stay put.