Closer and closer they came

old women with faces made of lava

and stinking volcanic mouths.

Bodies of soil after years of drought,

dead oasis simmered

between thin thighs and haloes

of brittle hair.

They slowly stomped during ancient dust

covered their bird claw feet.

I turned and fled through a thorny bush.

Stumbled into indifference time.

Fell into a muddy lake

and drowned in a cascade of ages.


◄ what few see

the abbess ►


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