Drum 1

some days he would send his veins out to hunt
other days his spine

some days they would return
carrying fists full of flowers
to tie into his beard
other days
they would bring back ropes of fish
their mouths full of salt
or pearls of air

some days
they wouldn’t return at all
instead he would hear them at night 
thudding drums in the dunes 
pumping their blood into the sandy bones 
see them moving like whips on the hill
splitting air and sparking against veins of gold 
those nights passed like slow thunder

in the morning he would find them
curled into questions at the front door
limp like sleeping children

hands moving like water
folding them into his skin

red ribbons
holding himself together

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