RENEE ELIZABETH
GRIEF
Encased in nostalgia.
Lost in momentary notice.
Accumulated desire of loss.
“Revolution”
Far to the left
of ideas I sit,
and campaign
for change.
“Welcome”
Clots of hair, dust
and blades of grass
stick to my skin.
Worn doormat,
with no spine
to speak of
or legs to stand on,
at that.