Isa Guzman

WEATHERED INSCRIPTION

mountains               behindus      rise
                        in a color

            golden                  sere&lifeless
a midsummershimmer

            we eat lunch
                                    convert / ferment
our meals / ideas               into dust

            we walk out             into the blank
street             with   vacantwindows
                                                displaying fog

splayed cemeteries  soclearlymarked
                        risefrom our pelvis 

            we wander now                  scanstones
buried in small children
                                    growingin    a grove
            below their bellybuttons

            slow paced drags    dragusinto fatigue

we are searching      for the askedmenot
                                                past

            i should have known it
            i’ve stepped far intoit

            when we finally arrive at an altar
                        we make our offerings
quarters&dimes
                                    brittlebonepens

             we look up for the main path
                        between the clusters of tiltedgraves
                        caught up in it seaofgrey

            we overlooked our hauntings
we’re coming back

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