A Poster of Robert Plant

Matted grass, where bodies had lain,

a swirl of capillaries on the neck, like a tie dye.

Me sitting on the car hood and it began to move.

You hung out the passenger window grasping for me,

with awe and concern on your face.

Your shirt rising with the reach, to expose your scar.

The skin on the lower back like a pizza,

from when the furnace exploded.

You were eight, and bending to unload the clothes dryer.

When I see the poster, of Robert Plant and the bird- I always think of you.

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