deepundergroundpoetry.com
July
Tonight the swelling land
is feeding.
Its tangled coat
of overgrown fur shines
in recovery
parched
all-but burned.
In the cool night
the cane and cows and cancer cells
nurse in the darkest recesses
and multiply
sprouting stalks like fireworks
that explode and echo up the valley.
Beneath the sickle-moon we're consumed
growing more alone together.
is feeding.
Its tangled coat
of overgrown fur shines
in recovery
parched
all-but burned.
In the cool night
the cane and cows and cancer cells
nurse in the darkest recesses
and multiply
sprouting stalks like fireworks
that explode and echo up the valley.
Beneath the sickle-moon we're consumed
growing more alone together.
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