This is all too familiar.
A monster of the lungs,
jumping the skies.
Scrubbing the streets clean
of the fingers and toes,
that glow through the night.
And the rest of us,
mouths of endangered
speech.
And what of loss?
This is all too familiar.
A monster of the lungs,
jumping the skies.
Scrubbing the streets clean
of the fingers and toes,
that glow through the night.
And the rest of us,
mouths of endangered
speech.
A Wandering Poet 