In the aftermath of the cyclone squalls
time was clocked in by the church bells
plated in between sheets of silence.
The uncharted surplus of violence
had shocked most into mutism;
the rest preached apocalypticism
or inculcated words of redemption.
Flotsam was pillaged for consumption
when news of another hurricane
sent the hopes of many down the drain
and to some others straight to the
gods.
Tomorrow would see who'd beat the odds.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Avis sur la chose en question
Feedback on the thing in question