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Nov 2018
The distant cry
Of a black-bird
Echoes up high
But is not heard.

Somewhere beneath,
A rodent nests
In tar and grief
With young in-breast.

And, in valleys,
A crushing guilt
Poisons the land
To bleed and wilt;

Pestilence is
Upon them. Not
A plague: rather,
Humanity.
A poem about the environment.
#7 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
Lewis Hyden
Written by
Lewis Hyden  18/M/London, UK
(18/M/London, UK)   
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