Sandra Hubinger - Houseless

Without a roof the looks
sweeping over the fields
whose fringes flatten

In the body without a roof
for being no flesh no bone

Without a roof the thought, hard
like hoe on stone
running to iron, the ends blunt
Without a roof in its beginnings
the radiant grows dark

Without a roof in stumbling together
in interlocking
those entrusted to the heart without a roof