Saturday, 29 June 2019

The lull between the squalls


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

This is no longer home

On the train back to the old place unsure if any memory is left there Surely there must be an old cigarette burn hissing embers fusing ...