happenstance

a happenstance
  when silence screams
 
dirt brown
six feet down
even in the swelter of summer
is cool to the touch
where the worms turn
flesh into dust

a frenzy of thoughts
 (a murder of crows)

speaking the language of
 ears and parts    growing 
slowly slowly  old

there will be fruit   on the table
by dusk  and we will eat
  juice running down our chins
  licking each other’s fingers clean

until our hearts  
seeds planted there
explode
 in flowerings 
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