the taming of the 'shroom

out of the shadow of sickness again
& the body does not remember
like the sky does not remember
its weathers
& at arms' length
the nation's troubles.
Unless they tear
this hardwood door down
they are not coming.
A hollow hill i passed once
on my many travels,
invited me inside.
Sickness is the last vocation i said,v & i mean it.

This is the only ordering
there shall ever be