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.
Written by braggman (Steve Bragg)
Published | Edited 4th Oct 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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