Saturday, June 1, 2024

Golden hour


In this golden hour the clouds were filthy and low

Their concerns were petty and they were posing

inappropriately to the moon, which was waning


How could they do this to you millions of significant

others were asking, how that? don't they know?

Miserly storms only blustered and spat


Humidity drew out but did not disperse

the urine of the dead and the infirm

Voices chemically cried out beyond the terminus




by Missy

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