Roughly as big as my fist,
it would break to see you again.
Aren't we tired of this?

The wind is colder and the soil is broken open.

I bought a telescope.
The paper said the moon was new
and so I looked up in the air.
I needed something new but there was nothing there.
(This thing is withering)

I bent the earth
to see your form rise into the frame,
frail though it is to mention more to the passing days.

I broke the earth
to hide you beneath the graying sky.
Clouds covered every corner;
field's fallow season dies.

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