If the wind breaks, the crops they creak. They have no other feet.
If the sirens call, the dirt cannot to them speak
Back, cannot haunt the sleep
Of a farmer pushed to the bed’s brink.
Day one, something in you died. Where there is growth
A small angel takes things away.
Tell me the difference between an angel
And a ghost? One is active,
The other deliberate.
All walls bring terror; bring about nothing that eats
I’ll have another unexpected catastrophe
Then the rest of the onslaught can carry me to a tune,