ILL WORLD - SEPT 12, 01:CHRISTOPHER MAJOR

 


Dawn sore morning sky,
telephone wires flick from flatline-
lost world back to life.

Wind slaps; then puddles
re-settle to diesel bruises,
and whole chunks of sky.

Bronchial branches nest clogged,
all heave and rattle, and then...
a spray of blackbirds.

Books of condolence.
At the church door's gaping mouth,
thrown up confetti.





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Background image by Kabir Kashyap Web graphics and design by Smita Maitra

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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