Patch

Mitochondria cooling the darkening child with prayer. The smile is yellowing wood on a rotting frame, feild, house, shadow of bright day. Gray sunflower teeth. In fear I am devout as a church window, devout as pain and stars. A cloth of hair folded over mimics the wave of flower in the wind. Fruit falls from the tree with each plodding beat, already rotten. Unspeakably the day yellows into dark hair.