Sunday, April 23, 2017

pigskin

 
throw away the old 
football aging gray fraying
pigskin threads as it sits in a pile of
pine needles draped with dead spider silk
tossed by young hands blown away
from home whose fingerprints lurk invisible whose
laughter haunts its seams whose lingering
DNA mixes with tattered leather producing 
organic memories and distant reality
©kcasady2017


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