The days of June march on,
heavy as a funeral procession.
I can’t tell what’s in the casket
– it smells of memories and childhood action figures
in a way that can’t be named.

At the graveyard, I find
a new life waits for me. There seems to be even more
heavy light and heavy chaos,
but there is a strange peace in the heat.

It smells of memories and childhood action figures
in a way that can’t be named.