a stack of four cassette tapes,
a satellite antenna
and corrugated steel
A window loose within its frame,
subject to the wind and rain,
rattles through the calendar’s fifth page

June brings with it waves of wild grass
and pushes back the darkness
a dollar for directions to the tire swing
fifty cents for cherry soda sunsets

you’d stay, but though the fields go on forever
change is finite
now if anyone were to walk through that door
they’d find the room deserted
with September laid out lifeless on the floor

© starcrossed