Cross-Quarter Day Poem by Phillip Blakley Martin

taste my words they're not for sale
test my life i'm sure i'd fail
if it were not for love and grace
my past would surely scream
entangled vines beyond the fence
ensnare unwitting feet that press
with eyes' stern stare horizon bound
yet trampling sacred ground
stumbling grass and tripping woods
gathering flowers and selling goods
criss crossed freeways and daffodils
while pantry drawers and shelves lay bare
witness to our fallen lair
chin up girl you'll get your chance
but for now
all you have
to do
is dance