No more the slab to
hide the bones,
the roots and shoots
split the stones resting
tenuous upon plot and curb,
the sidewalk cracked, the wide
wasted drive spitting
green and wild in this,
the warming world. So
there’s nothing to be said
these words and phrases
claimed as exception
only a rule of thumb,
what is and what’s to come
urgent only to the conceits of
flesh and wonder while
the earth pulls us under,
sentiment no match for sediment,
no tongue to hold my name.