print previewback AILISH HOPPER
Circle in the Grass
As a branch is bent, the years
I still have a lot of flashes
Once there was
A tree here, two-story oak
Now, just a circle in the grass
That will not regrow
A battle is indescribable, but once
Seen it haunts a man
Until the day of his death—
Here, there used to be
Footprints Clothing
Today, the hundredth
Anniversary
Delicate flakes—
Blossoms—
Here, there used to be
To sleep, I lay down
As a branch is bent, the years
With murderers 
