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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1762233

A new poem about the rekindling of humanity through loss.

Terrible man
make it to poverty swiftly.
Satanic witches
stay your curses and
leave your noses with me.
Narrow bones
I say
speak like twigs
together below here.
Brown earth
be still and
get your fill. The
fire is dripping
from the sun's drooling
turning
hard-candy-black
for our
rekindling.
© Copyright 2011 Matthew J. Galyen (arland at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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