unForgotten

forgotten where the tree ever grew from or at least the soil gives nothing anymore as if the babies spring out into work slacks and traffic lights only stopping momentarily to write a couple stanzas and realize the moment before was decoupled from anything previous like a telephone wire coming through a telephoto lens and then dropped down a well to develop and finally decay I hardly ever call my mom anymore as the sun comes up and the sheep begin their bleets we call morning and though I tell you it never rains around here there must have been for the well to fill in the first place. like every call I never made gathered just beyond sight and the rain is coming soon