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The Grave

The smoke sputtered

sizzled

stank as the dying fire brought their furrowed brows to shadow.

The wide skies faded too

curling around the edges of their vision

and the desert rushed

threatening chaos in its white noise

and vacancy.

Two sets of set shoulders and two bare backs

began their night’s work

grey canvases heaving under a weeping sky.

By the time they were done

the rain had stopped.

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Written by
katie-hill
American
Published
Jan 14, 2014
Lines·Words
13·69
Notes

Happy little diddies.

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