Pewter cloud scatter,
dipping
Chalice wells with rain,
spilling
Lips in a trickle of copper brush and patina
lichen length,
saturating
Arboreal graphite ghosts,
rooting
Haunting the stretch of a last green hope
Their skeletal scratch at well worn summer blue denim,
fraying
Their force of life an earth thick scent,
of pungent iron rich blood
Her decay caked breasts stirring thoughts of
combustible hues,
wilting
Her womb a molecular spread of casualties,
seeding and spreading,
fatum
E.A. O'Connell
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