Land for Itself

One spiderweb crisscrosses
an entire field

like a territory
impossible
to claim beyond
shimmer

You cannot free countries
only dirt

& the people
who still want to rename
the dirt speak with the vibrations
of spiderwebs

A rug, the rubble, this reed bending back
against its own whistle

Survival & greed
are two stones submerged
in the water not far
from each other

They tumble
into two mirrored moons

Hope must be wet
Else I don’t know hope

Could we let ourselves
want what the water wants?