It's the way God walks away after shitting out the purpose.
It's the way the splintering pole fornicates the cracked earth.
It's the way the two boards slap together in a fit of excitement.
It's the way the stringy brim slips to the side exposing a hopelessness.
It's the way the straw organs relent to the slightest ember.
It's the way the olive green rag drapes over the slender dried cross.
It's the way the crows simply perch
That eats up all hope and
purpose.