Too Deep To Drown
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The Cedar Steps
I lick the grass with cedar steps
Teeth pulled back, all cracked and bent
The grimy taste of ashy soil
Climbs up my stairs, makes me recoil
My mortar skin and cracking bones
Painted bright un-earthy tones
I breathe these fumes of charcoal gas
And exhale clouds of chestnut dust
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