A minefield replaced the lawn again.
I told the kids not to play dead.
You told me to learn snow.
I salted your lips before drinking a kiss.
The lawn leaped into a pile of pine needles.
The kids cleaved the wind running.
You told me to blanket the yellow sailboats.
I printed your eyes shut with ellipses.
The lawn knelt in prayer reciting psalms.
The kids recited a failed fable left out of the final draft.
You told me to dance standing still.
I built a shelter to protect us from the sun not the night.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney