Eleven The Hard Way

Years ago, Earth turned away
from the doorway. Brushed snow
from her shoulders and walked down
cracked sidewalk. Streetlights illuminated
her progress. A waxing moon
snagged the Etruscan tower. No money
was lost. Earth brushed snow
from her shoulder. It fell everywhere.

We walk to upper Ball's Falls. Spring
has arrived. Green leaks from
brown cover. The only sound is moving
water. I see the moss-covered
rocks. And imagine Ms Earth walking
away from the last altercation.
In the news, we are strobe lights--

pieces of flesh caught
in time, fermenting into action/inaction--
rolling for time and a glimpse
of what is really what.

Guess.