the
ground woke up hard
ice
gathering
hanging
like
mountain tears
frozen
in place
the
children will remember this year
cold
steel
mouths
crying out for water
trudging
back roads
overweight
backpacks
no
one knows how the trail goes
it
finds its way on sunken shoulders
bodies
scattering up the ridge
to
the high points
carrying
the dead onward
--- e b bortz
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