deepundergroundpoetry.com

after

I take the vessel,  
the fuel, what's left after,  
and then turn it out  
into something  
sanded down,  
ground,  
burnt into solid,  
a plate to pass around,  
no longer made of unrest,  
no longer burning on the tongue,  
I use it to make new links,  
vines and roots strengthening  
every day there's been hope  
since that time has finally gone.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 17th Jul 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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