frozen

gracious host goes slowly sinking into the sand, looking up only to see the balloon pop and fall, slowly at first, then fast. the basket turns over and the people fall out as the basket catches wind and floats above them, and they plummet. a spider builds its web, across great open spaces, we look carefully and maybe still don't see and go plunging into and are sticky and close our eyes and crumple into the leaves and are buried. we smell the mildew.

my throat is dry and some red bumpy monster spreads over this landscape, like geese in the summer flying somewhere. like a child's slowly growing mind connecting dots and lines, building shapes from blocks or in color on paper or your walls.

but this jar is empty.

this heart is old.

this winter is coming