World: Dismantling

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A blue night sky blending into an orange sunset that sits between two trees

Hang onto the morning at its smallest

just before the sky cracks 

 

to let in the morning’s rays.

Remember the passing seasons 

 

and the gait of wisteria often buried 

under raucous life

 

The cold summer sun resting quietly

between satin curtains.

 

Hold both the silence and the noise

in the same hand

 

because this world is burning too fast to hold it all.

As you listen for the horizon noise of trains going, people rushing

 

ask if you reach for the bits of this world 

before they become buried, returning to ash 

 

returning to the Earth for eternity, for infinity

I plea, listen to the woods glowing in crimson,

 

the thunder falls of animals you so dearly love 

running, running, running until they’re covered

 

in ignorance, in complacency. Covered in grayness

so thick it covers the morning at its smallest,

 

the sky cracking for beings of destruction.

Poetry
United States of America