"The Remains of Men"

Sitting in the high grass of a meadow, once a battlefield saturated with blood of young men, fighting for pride and boundaries, bodies crossed, stacked like twigs for a fire. The remains of men adhere to my hands as I clap two sticks together, gathered from this graveyard, creating ragged tunes making syncopated beats soft harmonic voices lifting into the summer heat. Aleathia Drehmer 2007 Upcoming Publication by The Cerebral Catalyst