Burn Up
I float and develop. My negative
burned scarlet in the grass.
I draw smoke to the doorstep of breath’s casket,
the cherry a safelight in this daylight macabre.
Exhale. Red-light screening eyes
of thirteen immortal luminaries,
dressing the park as hero’s bayonets
anoint their delusions, upon delusions.
-
preciseandorderlyclutters liked this
-
leaveyouapen liked this
-
lettersinblackandblue liked this
-
zarithelostlegend liked this
-
a113ykat posted this
