Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2018
Presence is inexorable.
How nature makes
three legged spiders,
made for a grave in the
dust of a window sill.
How civilization makes
light pollution.
Soon the Moon will be
the only Old God left.
How my hands are so empty...
And the subtext is--
Oh the things I wish I could cry for:
I know them like the back of my mind.
Sunshine Odhner
Written by
Sunshine Odhner  Phoenix
(Phoenix)   
  235
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems