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Jan 2014
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.
Happy little diddies.
Katie Hill
Written by
Katie Hill  Minneapolis
(Minneapolis)   
897
 
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