the airy bluster, the watery resolve,
the earthen cast of hardscrabble mayhem,
the fire that threatens conflagration
when the family is home and secure,
they think, though nothing supports such
conclusion more than a spray of ammo
in the domestic face, less than death’s hush
We see what’s coming, we refuse to countenance
what we see we change into what we want
life to lift high in the gloaming era, watch
blood drip from the porous ceiling’s sieve
Could not stop could never denounce the plague
of fire, lye-laced earth, flood rush, empty breath
(22 December 2012)
copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander
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