Come hither. Come far.

Come to the place of freedom.

Where it rains robins, such dead

Bird bones jewellery.

Pits in the white, a pocket of

Marrow.

I found all the stones on the

Trail to a station, a walk

I am taking, plodding

Thud, thud.

They are in my compartment

The one under my shirt.

The one under a sleeve of skin.

Blood, blood everywhere.

RATE THIS BRANCH!