Maverick

I curl myself in a box, pinstriped

Odd bits of old confetti 

toes crushed against folded photographs, the first ballerina shoe

Shiny pebbles, a movie script and chocolate wrappers

Christmas bells and torn pages of a diary.

I close my eyes to make a 

time capsule, to be buried for years till

Present thoughts become a confused smile, a memory. 

I bury me under the Rowan tree, covered by berries and speckled red flowers 

The earth growing warmer, I hear

muffled laughs of lovers or maybe little children dappled by sun and shade

I sleep.

Seasons change, the rain mixed with songs of the wind seeps through

I wish to turn, restless in my sleep

I dream of thunderstorms, barbed wires of electricity in the sky

My bones ache for green fields, damp green fields

I wish to turn

Within the closed space of the eye

I see the rain dripping through my twisted fingers

Dissolving me to absolution.

Doused by a thousand tears of a dead god. 

I feel not the weight of the berries, the red petals, troubled dreams.

Seasons change, the summer awakens me

Blind, blind fury of a midday sun

I rise, I merge, lost to the elements

Fevered by the heat, I turn

into a rain cloud

I fall

I turn

parched lands into fields of green

My blood in the earth

Fertile.