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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1250146
I watch my past being eaten by a bulldozer
A BOWL OF MEMORIES
April 17, 2007

Munching hoofprints for
breakfast, scrambled paths, and
shed hides, digging a bowl
for its oatmeal clumped with bits
of rock and dirt and
rolled roots, the shovel digs
its meal from my memories as if
it were only earth seasoned
with wind and cooked by fire.
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