one day I came to realize immortality was a loser’s game

the garden blooms wild
in its own
vermilion shadow
stretching deep roots
each year

unchecked
so it grows
disturbing fruit
and
the children eat
and learn to hate
their bodies

growing wild gardens
of their own

beat the drums
beat the indian drums
and gather ’round
the sacrificial fire

in past times
we threw our babies in
now they push the elderly
and
paint their drums

© Emerys Watchel, 2017 All rights reserved.

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