Harlow's Prayer

"It spreads, like rivers from my African belly."

What?

Was the old lady foreshadowing a betrayal?

I turned my back at the sun.

There might be better clouds ahead,

above the orchard

where my baby used to play the blues.

Apples, and pepper and I'm already there, back there.

But the orchard vanished: a mirage.

Another unfinished tale.

I saw a man running a knife through a tree.

I looked again.

No one.

I was a pillar of salt.

Lot, where are you?

I turned my back at the sun

and Amy withdrew her eyes from the meadow because the rain had drowned her sunrise.

Ginger, a loner.

I am from the roots, ginger and a loner.

As a broom, the true story wipes the dust from the coffin.

You twist the knife.

(Man squints his eyes, immediately closes his book and wipes his façade)

You ruined me.

I felt like sand,

and betrayed,

and federal,

and risen,

You deserve ripe corn,
inhuman that you are.

But I walked, I squinted my eyes seeking for gold

inland,

I deserve it.

I am Ginger,

and I felt so alone,

the walls were grey come Sundays.

I don't know about those words,

what to expect,

or what is a sun,

I don't know.

I hesitated,

and

what is a sun?

I don't know anymore.

I hugged the air,

merry are the ones that felt like feathers

when a building was collapsing above them.

a Rose Forlorn, Classic.

Odette,

why a rose?

Remind the cast that the play is not over,

Please, remind the pianist to change

the key of the song

(down a semitone)

after the pain

withdraws from the mouth of the rose.

I am waiting for the moment

like a borrowed light aroused, dimly.

As the flame touches the page someone leaves the cast astray.

The piano paused.

And sand started LEAKING OUT OF IT.