year after year the convicts spoke their dream about the feel of grass
how they longed to put aside stone floors

blacktop where they shot hoops & walked mile upon mile to nowhere
they would sit under a shade tree sipping chilly beer

while free hands feathered green hair of some former love revisited
or they would play a game of barefoot baseball with their boys

the ones they hadn’t seen since the dark ages
while a dog barked & sweat bees chased the honey on young necks

yet I preferred to imagine the artificial turf cushioning steps
on my way to a softer bed how it would glide me

over it like the plane of a swimming pool
that kind island smelling of dust & hued like grass or else

a muted beige as if made from skins of teddy bears
I swore I’d pace the room for an hour

Zouch Banners Vol2 (2)