Of all the grains I’ve been known
to go against, I admit to having favorites.
The straight and narrows crooked plan
to bury us alive, living beside the right
and wrongs blind ambition to make the
world exciting as an Amish coma. I asked
the man at the hardware store to get me
the roughest paper made so I could caress
the holes in the ground where crosses killed
the trees. He stared at me as if a forest was
burning in his eyes, then turned his face into
an axe and said your tears need trimming.
TRUE GRIT by Daniel Moore | Sandalwood Vanilla Poetry Reed Diffuser
$15.00Price
