torrefying.

my life repeats
every four years

by then my ground
has gone, has come

and from inside
exists another

voice of mine, new
but already old

by this time
when we start again

step into the water
when i have to

waiting for its temper
to rise match my skin

but my skin never stays on
the water coming down

chanting my bites of the day
spitting my father's

disapproval in my face
the echoes of the new

echoes of the old
already my voice.