December 20, 2017

Poetry: “Cycle”

Gently,
Night’s bodice
Loosens tongues
Of disparate denizens
E’er forgotten by
Crumbled purpose;
Attested to the swilling
Of a morning
Milky-way commute
(Guidance in dispute).

Aimless ghosts traipse
O’er backyard bone-lit
Youth fountains;
Trespassers of dénouements
Reach anti-climaxes
(Untrue).

One pop —
Then it’s gone:
A rustling scurry of shame,
Retreating.

Continental plates
Protest in place,
Restless above
Underground
Sounding boards;
Volume off
To mute
A cacophony of
Groaning
Mother Earth
Aftershocks.

The Richter Scale
Does not adjust
To the magnitude
Of a wrathful god
Complex.

Quake.
Obliterate.
Salvage.
Repeat.

***

“Cycle”
© Jane Bled 2016-2017
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