By Catherine Zickgraf
Like threaded grooves of a clock screw,
ramps channeled rocks to build up walls.
I´m folding towels, a spire falls.
The centuries are not coming back.
Nothing lasts forever,
I shiver as CNN shows the fire.
Churches of trees will burn-
but only burial can melt the stones
when the earth takes back its own
Catherine Zickgraf´s main jobs are to write poetry and fold laundry. Her work has appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Pank, Victorian Violet Press, and The Grief Diaries. Her recent chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press. Read and watch her at caththegreat.blogspot.com.
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