ON DIRT GROUND

Three men stood around me,

they made me shoot them.

There they talked with water,

one on dirt ground while thinking about people

I don’t like, the other a father sprung like a wild orchid.

Three men stood around me, one on two sides.

There he talked with the airy glade. There he talked

with the prisoners, to stand with the prisoners,

to belong. I ran back to my car, all alone.

Three men stood around me,

and then with the rain I don’t like.

There I walked on two sides. I was like

a wild orchid in the vine, sprung like a father.

Three men stood around me,

they made me shoot them.

There they talked with the prisoners,

where all the air holes froze up.

(September 23, 2011)