when the day is graveyard grey
and you’re thinking of the ground,
how it stretches out like a sentence.
a diagrammed horizon line,
bodies above, bodies below,
and all those branches, traceable
back to the original subject,
the original predicate,
the original predicament
written in stone.


photo and poem by katherine ferrier ©2017


Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s