POEM: OUT OF TOUCH

OUT OF TOUCH I.

When she prods
She plans
To descend from distances
Too far to measure

When she speaks
She stands
Over those carrying
Bountiful bags of sand

When she talks
Feathers flee
With worry weights
From times gone by

As though suffering's past
Commutes the present pain
By tallying troubles

OUT OF TOUCH II.

You left letters in my room
And more letters throughout the house

You dreamed and told me a few
Stories fragmented by time

I rushed and overworked my pleas
And asked you to take your things

I closed my eyes just to finish off
Your fractional reverie

OUT OF TOUCH III.

In the land of milk
Honey drips
Cash outside

Bees bustle and brim
Combs drain on a watch
Whimkeepers coat their eyes

I am too poor to stare
For these wealth gushes
Throb my stomach all the more

I, unlike you, don't have the time
To walk out of the door

OUT OF TOUCH IV.

My comrades know
The disbelief I hold

As though the pain I carry
Is any less real

When you say "Worse could come."
And say "You barely suffer."

My comrades come
Like fire fragrances
And exigent embers

They sit on the charcoal
Hold the hearth hem
And smolder the stories
You've put out

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