afterlife

I am in an assembly line
of afterthought
between a screen door
and hairpin curve

iced coffee is out
weather dictates this force

- I see

wild geese - hear
the character of winds taking shape
Can there be afterlife?

Can chaos remember such
preexistence?

flannel wears thin after so short
the seasons - I count
the calendars collected with you

"We are all fair game"... in the
rain

choices now claimed
will determine my place
in line - I know my

Calling

so does the sinner...

bkmackenzie
2016