Bone houses and rust
where the water is green
and the grass is brown,
and the man in the homemade clothes
you slept beside all night.

The clothes are man made,
clumsy white stitches stitching
dark fabric, seams
on the outside, and everything
he owns sewn with the same
uncareful hand.

The houses with blind eyes
and too many nails, and the man
snoring all night beside you,
and now it is daytime.
Now there is a crane
in a pond of green sludge.
The sun is making
the brown grass look gold,
and the homemade man is offering
you a raisin bun.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s