that hour is black
it is the hour to singe clothes, arsonists
the hour to burn houses and towns

that hour for children
to bolt from their swing sets for cover
the hour to board up windows

girls with guns
pistols in sweaty palms
deliberately weaponizing silence

that hour is red
a baleful war fought with ****** fists
sanguine faces flushed

that hour for isolation to prevail
to spread and slither into the crevices
the hour to bathe in ***** waters

cleanliness is seen as abrasiveness  
shadows of girls with guns
vile offspring with foul mouths

that hour is emerald green
months fly past like moths
roots sprout with intensity

that hour for desperation
the hour for skeletons to roam
piles of revengeful bones

the flies are swarming
on corpses

the hour is black in shadows
red in ****** waters
emerald green in dying beginnings