Space leans / Against the back of a store-bought sofa-  

    outside, my toes are ready to take a late-morning coffee lunch… bird whistles clash     against the soaring of our Easter polka-dotted memories…   with threaded iron and     possum lace stitching vines against the exodus of ice-cube harmony in my Mason
    jar glass… sweet, sweet cherry balm… Here, rest I in a wanting state, steeped soft
    in the muddy water romper of my family’s tradition and KY shale mud.  

Time starts / Rest in Peace. A moment of silence for Big Lots.