Untilled


For then,
and always then,
like now or later
I had said-
“I will love
you until…
of a winter
our rigid
bodies,
sack-wrapped,
are bundled from the back
of a conscienceless truck,
in some forgotten field;
and as we fall,
our
sentences tumble together
in the untilled soil,
holding hands
with our
stillness”
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