Lured
They wait
As lies fold
Up a fortress
Of paper towels
To fight the furling rain,
Gusting like old promises
To race the edge of reasoning,
We are the blurring syntax written,
Ruched towers tear the torrents beginning.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
Lured
They wait
As lies fold
Up a fortress
Of paper towels
To fight the furling rain,
Gusting like old promises
To race the edge of reasoning,
We are the blurring syntax written,
Ruched towers tear the torrents beginning.
Antonia Sara Zenkevitch
(*trigger warning – depicts a dystopian future) Do not ask where the ancestors are in this great, lonely city, for they are all around. Do not ask where the guardians of this lone child are, for they are with her every step. They go before her and follow after. They raise her up though she…
we will
with our will, ease
these dangers and perils;
we will burn these injustices.
The below was written in a stream of conscious, as part of Linda G. Hill’s SoCS prompt.
The waters are critically high and overseas semi-arid lands become ever-more dry. Critically, promises were broken, made and then broken, again and again, and again. Critically, the West has outsourced the worst of its pollution and, critically, I know why …
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