Another row he goes.

Spinal entrails trail behind,

like autumn’s earth before.

Dreams—long in tooth—

like swirling leaves scattered

in their fateful flight.

Each clouded breath’s opportunity

misspent words for blight.

Another row he goes.

Naked truths, fingers point.

Another row he goes.

Furrowed brow, windows cracked.

Another row he goes.

Leathered skin pierced sharply...