The River Styx bled itself dry
As we swam in the trees
And dined in the snow
Making lies fit our lives
We watched under God
Soldiers mowing through mountains
In green pools of blood
We saw mothers and fathers marching their young, as
As Children with zinnias over their hearts
Sang songs of thundering silence
Into galaxies…
Unheard...
Jesse Wolfe
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment