intention(al)

(bang!)
 
the echo stretches
 for miles
 
 even the trees
stop
 and turn
 
 and all is 
still
 
 one slip
 of a finger on
 the silver
  hammer
 cuts a clear path
 through the
 front wall and
out
 the back
 
(enter
 through the side
 door, exit through
the window)
 
 and everything
 you know
(every idea)
 every picture
 (everything you carried,
loosed)
 
(every first love)
 
 spills back into
the earth
 (your mother
 receives you in
gallons; in pints)
 
 if all is not
 lost, then, for
now,
 it is only
you


~ A. L. Stippich

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