---

Old knots, old nerves

Unreal

The days are turning gray

My hands are froze, my face is pale

The captain left us here

He said good luck

But I know…we’re fucked

Fin’lly we moved, searching for food

Child in her youth, doomed like a ewe

I cut the loam, gathered the stones

Lowered my baby’s body to tomb

Envisioning

Everything

There’s nothing