gravedirt sways below feet
head follows at dizzying speed

while my eyes were shut tight
some rich white men stole the sky

to sell in chunks to children
the wind was in my ears

lungfulls returning now in
verse-form, syllables worth

less than a penny each
sun still peeks through leaves

despite the change in ownership
the wind tastes like dirty coins and lilac

if I jump, will it still catch me
tuck me into a little girl's pocket

with the pretty stones and flower petals
to be spilled into mother's open palms