by Abby Paden

in the cold ground she lay
lifeless, cold, and barren
no more will she play
in fields of wheat
and worms, where bitter harvests pray
cold stones litter the grass
hard, cold, and forgotten
where worms move purposefully
stretching out
and rotten
burrowing the holes
that never fully heal
during the day
bones left white and bleached
fields of harvest
i knew her once
i said to clouds swollen and sullen
boasting fear and solace
broken moons
months forgotten
on my chair I rock
frigid air, December
when the last of January’s fire
just embers

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