Rotary Song [corrected] Poem by Luke J. Holt

The sun makes the sun red

The sand makes my tongue coarse

The storm makes my feet wait

My feet make the barn noisy

Crushing carpets
mossy with crumbs
that dead bugs won't eat
and bits too old and stale for mice to loot

The rats make you their friends

and you fed them roots grown from the rains of the storm that makes my feet wait

from the sands that make my tongue coarse

and the sun that makes the sand red

and sold from the barn made noisy by my feet

crushing carpets